Don't Tread On Me
by smittypots
Summary: Taking place in Season 4. The CSI's latest case lead them to Goodsprings Valley in Clark County where reports of a hit-and-run turn into a homicide after the investigation takes a turn for the worst with the team facing unforseen obstacles. Meanwhile, Grissom fights off a migraine and his feelings for Sara. GSR COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Sorry for any geographical errors. I am not familiar with the area of Goodsprings Valley or Clark County. I do not own CSI or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**

SUMMARY: Taking place in Season 4. The CSI's latest case lead them to Goodsprings Valley in Clark County where reports of a hit-and-run turn into a homicide after the investigation takes a turn for the worst with the team facing unforseen obstacles. Meanwhile, Grissom fights off a migraine and his feelings for Sara. GSR **COMPLETED**

Table of Contents

**CHAPTER 1: THE BODY**

**CHAPTER 2: THE EVIDENCE**

**CHAPTER 3: THE RUN AROUND**

**CHAPTER 4: DRAWING BLANKS**

**CHAPTER 5: LAWYER UP**

**CHAPTER 6: DON'T TREAD ON ME  
**

**COMPLETED  
**

Characters from CSI:  
Gilbert "Gil" Grissom, the graveyard shift CSI supervisor (first appearance Chapter 1)

Catherine Willows, the graveyard shift CSI assistant supervisor (first appearance Chapter 1)

Warrick Brown, CSI Level III (first appearance Chapter 1)

Nick Stokes, CSI Level III (first appearance Chapter 1)

Sara Sidle, CSI Level III (first appearance Chapter 1)

Greg Sanders, (originally DNA Technician in Season 4, but I made him a field investigator) (first appearance Chapter 1)

Doc Robbins, Chief Medical Examiner (first appearance Chapter 3)

James "Jim" Brass, Homicide Detective Captain (first appearance Chapter 1)

David Phillips, Coroner / assistant (first appearance Chapter 1)

David Hodges, Lab Technician (first appearance Chapter 2)

Archie Johnson, A/V Technician (first appearance Chapter 3)

Bobby Dawson, Ballistics Expert (first appearance Chapter 4)


	2. Chapter 2: THE BODY

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for any geographical errors. I am not familiar with the area of Goodsprings Valley or Clark County. I do not own CSI or any of the characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**

* * *

SUMMARY: Taking place in Season 4. The CSI's latest case lead them to Goodsprings Valley in Clark County where reports of a hit-and-run turn into a homicide after the investigation takes a turn for the worst with the team facing unforseen obstacles. Meanwhile, Grissom fights off a migraine and his feelings for Sara. GSR COMPLETED

CHAPTER 1: THE BODY

Grissom drove along I-15 South in his Denali nearing Goodsprings Valley, in Clark County in response to reports of a hit-and-run. As he did so, he tuned into a local radio station, and just as it was approaching the hour a male announcer voice came over the speakers reporting the weather. "_Good afternoon Vegas, my it's going to be another scorching hot day. With temperatures reaching record breaking heat..._" That's all it took were the words, '_record breaking heat_' for Grissom to tune out and turn off the radio altogether. He was ten miles out of town when he decided to call Captain James Brass to make his arrival known. Pulling into a parking spot at the local general store, Grissom shifts the vehicle in park, before retrieving his cellphone from his right pants pocket to speed dial the number.

Brass's phone rang twice before he picked up, "This is Jim"

"Hey it's me," Grissom said in his usual somber demeanor, "I'm ten miles out and realized other than responding to a hit-and-run in Goodsprings Valley, I have no idea where I'm suppose to go." Leaning forward in his seat he took note of his surroundings. "I'm near something called Pioneer Saloon?"

Grissom heard the slamming of a car door as Brass casually exited his police squad car.

"I just got here myself," replied Brass shoving his free hand in his pants pocket. As he walked around⏤the sound of dirt and rock shifting beneath his feet with every fluid step he took away from his vehicle towards the victim's body. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to shield his eyes from the sunlight. The hot Vegas sun beat down on him. He was thankful for the small, albeit dusty, breeze that washed over him.

"I'll talk you through it. When you back out from there hang a right out of the parking lot. Go through the central part of town. Turn right onto Vegas Street, make a left onto West Main Street, turn right onto Revere Street, hang a right on Pacific Avenue then take a left hand turn onto Goodsprings Bypass road. I'm a quarter of a mile on the left hand back road. Trust me. You can't miss it."

"Thanks", replied Grissom.

He arrived on the scene with his kit in hand, dressed in black slacks, loafers, dress socks, a white cotton v-neck cap sleeved t-shirt, his classic straw sun hat, and standard issue CSI caviler vest. Before he even exited his vehicle he was already taking mental notes of the scene from the view through his windshield. The victim was male, laid faced down in the dirt in front of what Grissom could tell was a red 2004 Toyota Tundra with Texas plates. He walked fifty paces from his vehicle to where the victim's body lay. Brass joined him standing to his left with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"The others should be here soon," assured Grissom.

"In the mean time what do you think?" Brass asked furrowing his brows

"I've learned to let the evidence speak for itself," Grissom replied staring grimly at the corpse that lay face down before them.

"Well, what does it say?" asked Brass

The body of the victim wasn't positioned or posed in any odd manner. It was merely face down and outstretched laying less than 5-feet from the trucks front tires. At first observation Grissom took notice of the tire tracks that ran across the width of the victim's body before replying, "Don't tread on me."

* * *

"Hit-and-run called in by Larry Waters, proud owner of the local convenience store, who is pretty shook up about it," there was a hint of sarcasm to Brass's tone who knew good and well that Larry was more pissed than rattled by the sights of the dead guy on the ground as he filled Grissom in on the details. "Claims that our vic, identified as Matt Whitman, and his buddy Miles stole beer from the store..."

Brass was cut off by Larry. "My store! It's a rural area and I'm a businessman with a locally owned and operated store. I ain't apart of any chain, and people like him," Larry motioned to the corpse on the ground, "and his buddy think that because we're small town that they can take whatever they want and just get away with it. I've got the footage of them stealing to prove it too!"

Larry was middle-aged, slim-figured, average height, balding, wore bottle cap glasses dressed in a red polo shirt; name tag over his left breast displayed in big bold letters LARRY under that read his title STORE MANAGER. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest, which was puffed up in rage.

"They stole, now I want to see some justice!" Larry's tone was cross, which did not resonate well with Grissom, who didn't care for the attitude that the gentlemen was throwing given the fate that the guy who stole from him met.

In Grissom's mind if there's one thing that you don't do is judge the dead. He sets his kit on the ground before marching up to Larry invading his personal space, with mere inches between their faces as he said what he had to say. "A man is dead, and all you care about is that ... he _stole_ from you? I want to see some justice too, but THAT," he said sternly motioning to the dead body, "is hardly justified!"

"Easy Gil," said Brass intervening by stepping in between the two men to prevent Grissom's temper from flying any further off the handle. Brass motions for an officer to escort Larry away from the scene. "Larry why don't you go with officer Sanchez so he can take your statement."

Grissom walked back over to his kit to get to work, acutely aware that his team was late so he got started on what he could without them.

* * *

"WATCH IT!" shouted Nick Stokes in his thick Texan accent as he hung onto the dashboard in the passenger seat for dear life. An out of town Sedan with Massachusetts license plates got in their blind spot cutting them off.

Catherine Willows was speeding (and swerving) behind the wheel on the Las Vegas freeway in the middle of the day during mid-town traffic in an attempt to keep up with David Phillips, the teams coroner, whom she was following to the crime scene.

"Whoa, I don't feel so good," declared Greg Sanders who was feeling nauseous while trying not to puke in the back seat from Catherine's driving. "Did I mention I get car sick?"

Nick turned around in his seat to observe Greg's current state; he looked flushed. Fellow CSIs Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown were following closely behind Catherine taking notice of her erratic driving. Catherine swerved the vehicle to the shoulder of the road. She came to a screeching halt after having been cut off from the exit ramp by the Sedan causing her to lose track of the corner's van.

"ASSHOLE!" The testy strawberry blonde scram, while honking, and angrily gesturing out of the window to the guy who cut her off. "That Sedan came out of nowhere," she pounds her hand on the steering wheel. "Damn it, we lost David."

Greg could no longer fight the urge to vomit. So he quickly unbuckled his seat belt, and opened the passenger door where he empties his stomach contents onto the side of the road while they were pulled over. "Yeah, well I lost my lunch. When we're done at the scene I'm riding back to the lab with Sara and Warrick. If you don't mind."

Nick couldn't help but release a chuckle as he offered Greg a napkin to wipe the vomit from his mouth. Sara pulled up behind them on the shoulder of the road.

"Warrick, stay here. Maybe call Grissom and tell him we're gonna be late. I'm gonna go see what happened."

"You've got it," He whipped out his cell phone and began dialing Grissom's number.

Sara put the vehicle in park then turned on her flashers before unbuckling her seat belt to get out of the vehicle. She approached the passenger side of Catherine's SUV. She taps on the passenger window so Nick rolled it down.

"What happened?" asked Sara.

"That guy cut me off!" explained Catherine in a huff.

"Easy does it Cath" Nick said placing a hand on her shoulder trying to calm down his frustrated colleague. He took out the GPS from the glove box and punched in their coordinates. "Just get off at the next exit."

Sara couldn't help but giggle to herself at the sight of Greg in the back seat who looked pale.

"Hey, can I ride back with you and Warrick when we return to the lab?" asked Greg

"Don't look at me" said Sara.

Catherine whirled her head around to scoff and glare at Greg, "My driving's not THAT bad! You saw that guy cut me off!" she protested.

Nick and Sara began to chuckle at Catherine's response.

Catherine stifled their laughter. "Oh all right you've had your laugh you guys. Let's just get there so we don't waste anymore time than what we already have."

Sara walked back to her vehicle strapping herself back into the drivers seat before restarting the engine.

"What's so funny?" asked Warrick.

"Catherine was cut off by a Sedan, and Greg wants to know if he can ride back to the lab with us."

Warrick couldn't help but smirk at her last statement.

"So did you have any luck getting a hold of Grissom?"

"Yeah, he said he knows he wants us to get there quickly, but to do so safely."

* * *

In the meantime, Brass set up a police barrier with caution tape to seal off the scene. Fifteen minutes later the coroner's van pulled up along with the rest of Grissom's team.

"It's about time!" Declared Brass in an impatient tone. He and Grissom had waited an hour before the other's arrived.

"Sorry," replied Nick. "_We_ got lost," he said glaringly at Catherine as she climbed out of the drivers seat of the SUV.

"Hey!" scoffed Catherine who put her hands up defensively. "I was following David. It's not my fault I was…"

"It doesn't matter," chimed Grissom, "get to work." He addressed his team in a stern tone. "Seeing that you all arrived an hour late. I took the creative liberties of placing all of the crime scene markers, and assigning you your respected tasks as well as team parings. Catherine, I want you to photograph the scene. Nick, you're on secondary. Warrick and Sara, you process any and all physical and trace evidence. Greg, you're with me."

Catherine and Nick went back to their SUV to retrieve the camera bags, while the other's awaited unable to act until the crime scene was properly documented. She unlocked the vehicle opening the back hatch to dig around in search for the camera bags.

"Can I say one thing?" Nick said turning to look at Catherine.

"Sure shoot."

"I just don't understand why _I'm_ being punished for _your_ bad driving," he says snickering while placing the camera's strap around his neck. Checking to see if there is any film in the camera.

Catherine playfully smacks him on his right shoulder while grinning at him. "Just get to work!"

Warrick walks up along side Grissom, setting his kit down between them. "Let me get this straight," he says while crossing his arms over his chest, "this guy walks out to the middle of nowhere," he adds while glancing at the victim's body, "to what ⏤ just to get run over?"

"We'll know more once we process the scene," replied Grissom.

Having wasted enough daylight getting lost upon arriving in town, Catherine and Nick return post-haste with the cameras, snapping photos so the other's can do their part. She finished photographing the body so David could begin examining it. At this point Grissom and his team were fighting time and daylight. David thanked Catherine before doing his part. He knelt down next to the body to dig through the victims pants pockets in order to retrieve any and all personal belongings the victim may have on him, including the victim's wallet, handing it over to Grissom who flipped it open to read it aloud.

"Thank you David. Let's see. According to the ID our victim's name is Matt Whitman from Arlen, Texas."

Grissom took out three separate plastic bags. One for the victims wallet, one for the victim's cellphone, and the other for a pocket knife before sealing the ziplock shut on each adding them as evidence to his kit. Greg joined them kneeling down next to Grissom. The victim was dressed in worn out looking men's Levi jeans, a faded rust-red muscle shirt, black baseball cap, generic white tube socks, and men's work boots.

David took notes aloud as he worked. "Victim's male, Caucasian, 6'2", 165lbs, 35-years of age with sandy brown hair, lying face down in the dirt." He lifted up the bottom of the victims shirt to get a better look. He noted that there were tire track looking bruise marks along the back side of the victim's body. "The victim has a horizontal contusion running across his waistline the length and width of the trucks tires. As well as possible swelling from cracked ribs. Grissom, would you help me roll him over?" David looked up from the body to Grissom, and glanced over at Greg who appeared flush. "What happened to you?"

"Car sick," replied Greg. "I rode over here with Catherine and Nick, but I'm going back to the lab with Sara and Warrick."

"Oh, that's what that was…," David recalled the drive over. Remembering as he glanced back in his rearview mirror to check for clearance while exiting the highway, he noticed that he'd lost Catherine.

Grissom interrupted David's train of thought. "Please, you two focus on the task at hand."

"Right. Sorry." replied Greg.

* * *

Nick finished photographing the inside of the truck, so Warrick and Sara could process the inside.

"It's not locked?" asked Sara to Nick.

"Nope. The keys are still in the ignition, and what's even fishier is the back passenger door was left wide open," explained Nick to Sara and Warrick leaving them to do their part.

Upon opening the front passenger side door Warrick observed all of the litter as beer bottle after beer bottle came tumbling to the ground, some breaking upon impact. "Man look at all of this. What a pig," he commented as he took in the sight of the mess inside the truck.

Sara opened the back driver side door to take a look for herself with the foul smell of cigarette smoke hitting her. She took a moment, covering her mouth with the hinge of her elbow. "Well, how clean is the inside of your vehicle?" she teased smiling, taking her sunglasses off, placing them on top of her head allowing her eyes to adjust to the inside of the truck.

"Touche, let's get started."

They both opened their kits to retrieve their latex gloves, flashlights, fingerprint powder, and tape. He processed the front of the inside while she processed the back. Warrick assisted Sara in climbing into the back of the truck. He helped himself into the front of the passenger side, careful to avoid the broken glass of the beer bottles from earlier. As he sat in the drivers seat he turned on his flashlight to get a better look at the floor board.

"Wait," said Sara searching through her kit for medical masks.

"What?" asked Warrick

Just because they had to search the inside of the filthy truck didn't mean they had to breathe it in as well. After placing her own on over her ears she handed one to her colleague. "Here," said Sara offering a medical mask to Warrick. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to breathe that crap in for the amount of time we're going to be in here."

Warrick observed the dashboard and floorboard as they continued their search for forensic evidence throughout the truck. "I've got fast food wrappers, receipts, empty beer bottles and cigarette butts. What about you?"

"A toolbox, jumper cables, and…" Sara paused, as she rummaged through the back seat of the vehicle while holding her flashlight. "An unmarked bottle of some sort of liquid?" she said questioningly holding it up for him to see.

It was a yellow bottle with a missing cap, which obviously had the label torn off. She took a whiff of the contents to see if she could identify it from the smell, but had no such luck.

Warrick scoots over to the middle of the console, so he could have better access to open the compartment to the glove box in search of the vehicles registration. His flashlight caught the reflection of something metal as he noticed a hand gun. "I wonder if whomever owns this vehicle has registration for this?" He asked picking it up with his gloved hand to show Sara, who was too busy dusting and lifting fingerprints. Under the gun was the registration. "According to the papers the vehicle is owned by a Miles Gardner."

They tagged and bagged the remainder of their findings.

"I'm done photographing the body and the perimeter," said Catherine placing her camera back in it's bag.

"I'm done photographing the inside of the truck," said Nick who was beaming with pride that they were the first ones finished with their tasks. He hands his camera back to Catherine who puts it away for him.

* * *

As Grissom helped David roll the victim's body over on it's back, they took in the gruesome sight of the victims eyes and mouth. The victim's lips appear cracked and dry, but discolored a shade of blue.

"Is it just me or for a hit-and-run case does this guy look a lot worse than he should?" asked Grissom.

David grabs a thermometer from his bag to take the temperature of the victims liver in order to determine the time of death, but when he sticks it in, the body begins to bleed.

"Uh, is that suppose to happen?" asked Greg who was still new to the field.

"No," replied David.

The hand of the victims body shoots up, grabbing Grissom's forearm, startling him.

"He's still alive," exclaimed Grissom.

David is unsure of how to act next thus beginning to panic. "Do I ⏤ do I pull out the thermometer?" Without further warning he quickly removes the now blood covered thermometer from the victim's liver, causing Matt to cough, wheeze and scream in agony.

"BRASS!" scram Grissom. "We need an ambulance our vic's not dead."

Brass rushes over to his squad car to call in for medical assistance over the police radio, who dispatch an ambulance to their location. Afterwards, he makes his way back over to his friend.

"They should be here in fifteen minutes," assured Brass in between breaths.

Grissom escapes the grip of the victims hand, and waltz's over to Brass. "I thought you said the guy was dead."

Brass gets defensive at Grissom, who he felt was accusing him like it was somehow his fault that the victim wasn't deceased. "No. I mean yeah, well ⏤ the guy was face down in the dirt not moving! You were here with me for an hour before your guys showed up."

"It's not about blame Jim…"

"No. I know that. But who lays there for an hour plus in the heat of the dry desert while a forensic team and cops set up a crime scene?"

Grissom was about to respond to his friend's question when the sirens of the ambulance sounded. Two paramedics hop out springing into action as they struggle to get the gurney out of the back of their vehicle. They race over to the body, lowering the gurney down next to the victim where the pair lift him onto it. They usher him back to the ambulance wondering if a member of the team would like to accompany the body.

"No. That's all right," says Grissom. "Me and my guys are needed here. This is still an active crime scene as far as I'm concerned."

Sara looks up from what she was doing from inside the back seat of the pickup. She glances through the windshield noticing the lights of the ambulance. "What's going on out there?"

Warrick accidentally beats his head under the column of the steering wheel while trying to look up to reply to her question. "Ow!" He rubs his head knowing a knot would form there later. "Beats me. Why'd you ask?"

As Warrick crawls up from all fours on the floorboard into the passenger seat, he watches as their victim is loaded into the back of the ambulance. He exits the truck, shutting the front passenger side door, and assists Sara out of the back seat. They both take off their medical masks, and peel off their latex gloves as he expresses his discontent towards their current sight.

"Well, there goes our body," sighs Warrick.

"What?" asked Catherine who overheard Warrwick's comment.

"Aw, man! Does this mean we don't have a case?" asked Nick

"No. We still have a case," assured Grissom. "We still have a job to do. One of the paramedics told me that they're taking the body to seek medical attention at the Spring Valley Hospital Medical Center Emergency Room. I gave them my card with my cellphone number so they can keep us updated on our victim's condition. In the meantime, I want you all to go back to the lab to process and analyze the evidence you all collected at the scene. Greg, call the lab to send a truck over to tow the pickup."

"I don't have to," replied Greg looking off in the distance. "One's already on the way from the looks of it."

"Good job," congratulated Grissom to Greg for being a step ahead of him. It was a rarity.

"Thank you, but I didn't call them," replied Greg.

The team exchanged puzzled looks as the tow truck arrived helping itself to the 2004 Toyota Tundra while the driver hitched the front end of the truck to his tow cable. The drivers name was Travis Randy. At least that's what Grissom observed from the name embroidered on his navy blue cover-alls. Travis wasn't much older than Grissom was, covered in grease from a previous job, had calloused hands, stood 5'8" with a small frame for a man, with a potbelly, and bald head, but a scruffy un-kept beard.

"Hey! That's evidence!" scram Catherine

"Shucks, well don't get mad at me lady. I'm just doing my job," retorted the tow truck driver.

"Why I oughta…" Catherine had half a mind to knock some sense into the guy, but Nick wouldn't let her.

"Grissom aren't you going to stop him?" asked Sara

"That's got the majority of the evidence that we need to solve this case. Not to mention it's the murder weapon," remarked Warrick.

"Hey pal," said Nick, "you're contaminating our crime scene and hauling off our evidence."

"You CSIs are going to have to take this matter up with my supervisor," replied Travis.

"Sir," Grissom interjected trying to defuse the situation. "May I ask under what circumstances and what grounds you have to be towing away this truck?"

Travis finished operating the lift of the tow truck. He heads to the front passenger side where he rummaged through his front seat. He found what he was in search of presenting the paperwork that authorized him permission to tow the truck.

"According to these forums here filled out by my supervisor. I'm supposed to tow a red 2004 Toyota Tundra pickup with Texas plates number VFG 8194. This vehicle matches that description, and was reported as having been illegally parked and abandoned," explained Travis.

"I can understand the abandoned part," commented Warrick.

"Yeah, but Illegally parked?" questioned Nick observing the surrounding open desert.

"Reported as such by who?" inquired Grissom who was already developing a hunch

"Here, educate yourself!" said Travis

He practically threw the clipboard of papers at Grissom, which landed at his feet. Travis climbed into his tow truck and drove off. Never to be seen or heard from again in a trail of dust and dirt that kicked up behind him as he left. Grissom collected the clipboard off of the ground, skimmed through the papers, and found a business card attached to it. The address of the tow truck service along with a number were displayed on the card.

"Larry Waters" replied Brass.

The CSIs directed their attention to Brass.

"That weasel did this just to spite us," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm willing to bet after you two verbally quarreled," he glanced in Grissom's direction, "that he called it in after he gave his statement to Sanchez."

"Great," said Nick who threw his hands up in defeat.

"Where do you suppose they took it?" asked Greg

"To the impound lot," replied Grissom, "which is where you're going to go next", he said looking in Greg's direction.

Once they were all done doing their respected jobs, they left the crime scene, and headed back into town so they could process the evidence back at the lab. Grissom felt himself becoming lightheaded as he made his way back to his truck. He set his kit down as he fished his car keys out of his pants pocket, and used his other hand to steady himself against his vehicle.

"Are you okay Gil?" shouted Catherine from her vehicle. She took notice of her supervisors behavior. Nick didn't see because he was busy loading up the remainder of the equipment.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied before taking a couple of deep breaths; inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. "Just lightheaded from this heat," he said reassuringly. "You guys go on ahead. I'll see you back at the lab."

"All right. See you there," she replied, smiling, climbing into the drivers seat of the SUV, and pulling away from the scene.

Grissom got in his Denali placing his kit on the passenger seat. He shut his door, turned on the engine, and felt the blast of refreshing cool air from his AC. He reached behind the passenger seat where he stored a case of bottled water in case of emergencies like this. When he turned back around from reaching behind the seat to grab a bottle, there she was sitting beside him. It was Sara.

"Sara? I thought you were going to head back to the lab with Warrick and Greg?"

He didn't even hear her open and close the door to get in. Yet there she was ⏤ sitting in the passenger seat, flashing him a flirty smile, extending her right arm to caress his face. Grissom allowed himself to close his eyes as he reveled in her gentle touch. However, he opened his eyes quickly coming to his senses.

"No. Stop. This isn't real. I'm hallucinating because of the heat," he said trying to convince himself while resisting her advances.

Sara retracted her hand from his face. "It's all right," she assured him, "I just want to feel your forehead." She placed the cool palm of her hand to his forehead. "My God, you're burning up Grissom. You're so hot."

"Sara," he breathed closing his eyes a second time while under the spell of her touch as the last three words she said rang out. "You're so hot, you're so hot, you're so hot…"

"_Yes sir, it's so hot out there. As a heat advisory is still in effect_," came a male announcer voice over the radio reporting another weather update. Grissom no longer felt Sara's hand on him as he opened his eyes only to realize she was gone. He's been investigating crimes in the Las Vegas desert for nearly 20-years now, and still the heat would get to him. He took a long, deep, swig of water, took off his straw hat, and wiped the sweat that began to form on his brow before shifting into gear to take off.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the back of the ambulance that hauled off the victim's body. Two paramedics work as quickly and efficiently as they could to prevent the guy from dying.

"What's his name?" asked the first paramedic who began shining a flashlight to test his pupil constriction.

"I think it's Matt. At least that's what that CSI told me," said the second paramedic who started an IV.

"Matt? Can you hear me?" asked the first paramedic, but Matt doesn't answer. "His pupil's aren't responding," said the paramedic.

Matt begins convulsing on the gurney.

"Oh man, we're losing him!" says the second paramedic. "Hey! Can't you drive any faster?"

"I'm driving as fast as I can!" replies the driver, who practically pulls onto the curb of the entrance to the hospital in an attempt to rush the guy out the back of the ambulance, and into the ER for treatment.

"He's got no pulse. He's gone. We lost him," says the second paramedic.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" says the first paramedic as he beats the inside of the ambulance with his hand. "I'll alert the medical staff, and you try to contact that CSI who gave you his number."

The second paramedic hops out of the back of the ambulance. He steps off to the side near the doors of the entrance to the Emergency Room. Pulling the business card that Grissom gave him from his jacket pocket, he dials the number in attempts to contact Grissom regarding the body.

"Come on pick-up!" says the paramedic.

Grissom's phone rang four times before going straight to voicemail. As it turns out, after having been seated in his Denali his phone fell out of his pants pocket and underneath his seat. It was on ring/vibrate, but he couldn't hear it over the sound of traffic and the AC.

* * *

**I'm a huge fan of CSI and enjoy reading fanfiction in general, but thought I'd finally try my hand a writing one.**


	3. Chapter 3: THE EVIDENCE

**Author's Note: I do not own CSI or any of the characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.  
**

* * *

CHAPTER 2: THE EVIDENCE

As Sara scanned the parking lot of the lab for a space to pull into, she realized that she, Warrick and Greg were the first ones back from Goodsprings Valley. She put the vehicle in park then cut the engine exiting from the drivers side.

"Thanks again for letting me ride back with you guys," said Greg.

"Anytime," replied Warrick.

"I don't see Catherine's SUV or Grissom's Denali in the parking lot," said Sara.

Warrick quit unloading their evidence from the back to take a quick look around the parking lot for himself. "I don't see Brass's squad car for that matter. We must be the first ones back."

"No, here comes Catherine and Nick now," said Greg spotting them pulling into the parking lot. "Am I suppose to go to the impound lot to retrieve the truck?"

Sara turned to Warrick to gage his reaction as if he knew the answer to Greg's question, which he didn't. So Sara gave Greg advice of her own. "If I were you I'd just wait until Grissom gets back."

In the meantime, they all head into the lab to get started on analyzing their evidence. Catherine and Nick set up shop in a room while Sara and Warrick worked in a room adjacent to theirs. Sara entered the fingerprints collected at the scene into the computer database for comparison. Warrick sprawled out his findings on a table for further examination. Catherine and Nick waited for their photos to be developed, and Greg waited in the break room for either Brass or Grissom to return so he could retrieve the truck from the impound lot.

At first glance Warrick observed, "Most of this stuff is garbage."

He pulled on a pair of latex gloves to get started on sorting through the '_garbage_' separating his findings into three separate piles so he could test each of them. He began with the beer bottles, emptying any liquid they might contain into petri dishes. As for the broken bottles he gathered up the shards in an attempt to piece them back together so Sara could test them for fingerprints.

"Have either of you seen Grissom?" asked David Hodges

Warrick and Sara were too engrossed in processing beer bottles and analyzing fingerprints to notice him.

"Guys, hello?" Hodges waved his hands in front of himself in an attempt to gain their attention.

"What do you want?" asked a choleric Warrick; he wasn't fond of Hodges.

"Easy, I just want to help," Hodges replied.

"You can help by analyzing this," said Sara hopping down from the stool, strolling over to the table of evidence. She handed Hodges the yellow empty bottle that she found and collected at the scene from the back of the pickup.

Hodges eyes grew wide with enlightenment as Sara handed it to him. Sometimes he felt like she was the only one who cared that he was even included as a part of this team. He wasn't about to shy away from the opportunity to help work on a case, so he left taking the evidence gladly willing to analyze its contents.

"What'd you do that for?" asked Warrick raising an eyebrow while shooting her a look of question.

"He wants to feel included, and that ought to get him out of our hair," she said grinning.

Warrick's taken aback as he took in the sight of her smile. "Sara Sidle, who knew you had a mischievous side?" he said playfully. "You're bad, but he'll be back you know that right?"

* * *

After what felt like multiple hours, Catherine and Nick were finally finished developing, printing and labeling the crime scene photos before laying them out to be put into chronological order.

"Did that take as long as it felt like it did?" asked Nick not knowing whether or not he actually wanted to know the answer.

"Yeah," replied Catherine glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so," said Nick. "Man, this is a lot of photos taken between the two of us."

Sure they were time stamped by the standard issued camera, but they had to go by Grissom's protocol, which included giving them a once over. They took a few steps back to admire their handy work, reminding themselves they still had to study each photo thoroughly in case either of them may have overlooked anything while on the scene. Nick just finished putting them in order when she started messing it up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Nick

Catherine began to gather any and all photos she took of the body at the crime scene. "Don't worry. I'm just gonna make copies to send to the coroner's office. Doc Robbins might not have our victim's body, but I wonder if he can tell us from these photos what the cause of death may have been."

Nick comments, "I don't know about you but I think we deserve a break."

* * *

Grissom was the last one to return to the lab from Goodsprings Valley. He parked his Denali in the parking lot, but still wasn't feeling quite right since being in the heat. His head began to throb ⏤ which he knew was the onset symptom for migraines. Lately he'd been prone to them. As he sat in his vehicle he could feel it begin to affect his other senses. All of the sudden, he became increasingly sensitive to the sunlight reflecting off of the pavement that glared onto the windshield. He decided it best to hop out of his already stuffy vehicle before his symptoms got any worse.

He did so by walking the extra distance from the hallway to the quiet stairwell instead of the main entrance to the noisy elevator; dodging the front desk patrons along with the lab technicians upon his way to his office. Making himself more comfortable Grissom took off his straw sun hat, shed his CSI issued caviler vest, changed out of his cotton white v-neck t-shirt; which was soaked with sweat, and into a short sleeved, plaid men's, casual button-down shirt. Seating himself in his chair at his desk he leans back taking off his glasses to rub his temples in order to try to sooth the oncoming migraine. He inhales and exhales deeply, but just as he found himself able to relax his phone rings.

"This is Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Finally!" exclaimed a male voice. "Mr. Grissom we've been trying to contact you."

"May I ask who this is and how you got this number?"

"This is doctor Scott Thompson. I'm the Chief Medical Examiner with Spring Valley Medical Center Emergency Room. One of the paramedics gave me your number."

"Ah, right. Wait, the number I gave him was for my cellphone. How did you get this number?"

The doctor explained. "I tried calling your cellphone several times without response..." He paused in between his explanations during which Grissom began frantically searching his pants pockets for his cellular phone.

It then dawned on him that it must still be in his vehicle. He flashed back to when he left the scene in Goodsprings Valley. As it turns out, while he was hallucinating, his cellphone slipped out of his pants pocket and onto the floorboard. Even though it was on ring/vibrate he couldn't hear it over the sound of traffic and the AC.

"Sir, are you still there?" asked the doctor

"What? Yes. Sorry please continue," replied Grissom as he listened intently.

"After that, I contacted the lab where a receptionist patched me through to your line. As for the body, despite our teams best medical efforts your victim died. In my professional medical opinion, had he sought immediate medical attention sooner I believe we could have saved his life."

"Thank you. I'll have someone from the lab come to retrieve the body." With that being said Grissom hung-up the phone ending the call. He then dialed the number for the coroner's office to inform Doc Robbins to tell David he could pick up the body from the hospital.

* * *

Greg was joined by Catherine and Nick in the break room. Nick took a seat next to Greg while Catherine sat across from them.

"Have you just been waiting here the whole time?" asked Catherine to Greg.

He'd been waiting so long that he was munching on a snack size bag of gold fish crackers. Greg finished chewing before replying. "Yeah. I've been keeping an eye out for Grissom, but haven't seen him yet. He told me to pick up the truck from the impound, but I can't do that without the necessary paperwork filled out by Brass who I haven't seen yet either. So are you guy's having any luck?"

"Nope. Not really" replied Nick.

Sara's eyes began to burn from staring at the computer screen for so long while waiting for it to make a match. "That's it," she said hopping down from the stool. "I'm going across the hall to see if the other's are having better luck than us."

She popped her head in the room where Catherine and Nick should be, but all Sara saw were the crime scene photos sprawled out on the table. '_Where are those guys_?' she thought. Curiosity caught the better of her as she couldn't help herself from making comparisons of the photos.

After being gone longer than anticipated Warrick went in search of Sara. "There you are. C'mere. I've got something that I want you to see."

"What is it?" she asked

Warrick led Sara back across the hall to their workroom.

"I was sorting through the receipts that I found in the front of the truck. Most of them are barely legible 'cause this guy just crumpled them up. I thought, '_Why keep them? Why not throw them away?_' but now I'm glad that he didn't. Here," he said handing a crumpled receipt to her. "See for yourself."

Sara smoothed out the receipt as best she could with most of the ink having faded, but she could make out one thing. "It looks like it says Larry's Liquor," she said reading it aloud.

"It does," replied Warrick. "Larry's Liquor & General Store to be exact. That's the name of the store Larry Waters owns."

"Okay, so it's proof of purchase," said Sara.

"Yeah, but in Larry's statement he said Miles and Matt stole the beer. If that's true. Why would they have a receipt?" asked Warrick

"That's a good question," she replied.

* * *

"So this is where you guys went," said Sara entering the break room with Warrick following behind her.

"Please tell me you guys are having better luck at this investigation than we are," said Catherine.

Warrick took a seat at the table next to Nick while Sara plopped down in a chair next to Catherine.

"I wish. My eyes burn from staring at a computer screen," said Sara.

"I'd take that over sorting through hundreds of photos," said Nick.

"What are you complaining about? I'm basically sorting through garbage," commented Warrick.

"At least you guys are doing something I'm just waiting around…" as Greg spotted Grissom walking by the break room, he stopped himself from what he was about to say.

Grissom turned on his heels at the sight of his team chatting instead of doing their jobs he assigned them. "Greg, why aren't you at the impound lot retrieving the truck?"

"I… Sara told me to wait until you got back from the crime scene," explained Greg.

Grissom looked in Sara's direction who knew she was in the wrong for advising against his instructions. He turned his sights back on Greg who he could tell felt beside himself for not knowing what to do. "It's all right Greg. I'm glad I've got you all here this way I don't have to repeat myself."

Before Grissom said what he had to say next he seated himself at the head of the table. "I just got off of the phone with the hospital who informed me that our hit-and-run victim didn't make it. I was on my way to speak with Brass when I caught you all in here."

"Brass is here too? I didn't see his car in the parking lot," said Warrick.

"He's parked in back, but that's beside the point" replied Grissom.

Brass intrudes on the team conversation. As it turns out much like Grissom, he too had been in his office all along filling out paperwork including the forums Greg would need to retrieve the truck from the impound lot along with two separate search warrants. One for the truck and another for the security footage of Larry Waters convenience store.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, but here's the paperwork," said Brass handing off one set to Greg and another set to Nick.

Greg got up from where he was sitting in an attempt to leave the awkward conversation, but Grissom told him to stay put awhile longer. "Ah-ah, sit back down," exclaimed Grissom. "No one's leaving until we settle this. Now, let's go over what we've learned so far. Starting with Warrick."

Everyone at the table directs their attention to Warrick.

"I found a receipt from Larry's Liquor & General Store. Proof that the beer was purchased not stolen," said Warrick.

"This means Larry's statement doesn't add up with the evidence," said Catherine.

"Exactly," comments Grissom.

"At the scene Larry mentioned Miles was the name of our dead guy's buddy," chimed Brass.

"Where are you going with this?" asked Greg.

"This means we still have an investigation," replied Grissom. "We still have a crime scene to find and process, and a killer to bring to justice. So here's what I want everyone to do. Greg, I still want you to retrieve the truck from the impound lot. There may be traces of other evidence we didn't know to look for. Sara, you're with Greg. Brass, I want you to track down Miles Gardner, and bring him in for questioning. Right now he's our primary suspect in this case. Nick and Warrick, I want you to go back to Goodsprings Valley to obtain the security footage from Larry Waters convenience store. It may be the last footage of our victim alive. Catherine, I want you to go to the Goodsprings Valley police department."

"What, what for?" she asked

"Larry claims that he's made complaint calls to them before reporting people stealing from his store. I want to know if there's any truth to it or not."

Everyone got up from the table exiting the break room, and went on about doing their assigned duties. Catherine, Nick and Warrick all head back out to Goodsprings Valley⏤in separate SUV's⏤they weren't about to end up like Greg.

* * *

Catherine pulled up to the local sheriff's station heading inside turning heads as she did so.

'_Geez, these guys act like they've never seen a woman before_' she thought to herself.

Of course this didn't bug her any. Having been an exotic dancer before becoming a CSI investigator. She was use to dealing with guys reacting to her that way. She tried not to pay them any mind, until she felt a guy grope her butt upon entering the station.

"HEY!" she said flinching as he copped a feel, but the guy walked out the door past her before she could do anything about it.

"DAMN IT Frank!" yelled a male voice as the sheriff stepped out from the back office. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Frank's just one of many local guys who loves to raise hell with the ladies. If it's any consolation he's why we keep our secretary Margery behind the desk."

Catherine glanced over at the much older woman, and realized that Frank was one of those guys who'd chase after any woman that walked. Margery looked like she was in her late sixties, dressed in a long sleeved yellow women's button down sweater, paired with a wool skirt, nylons, and brown ladies loafers with thick glasses.

" '_Right_'… I'm Catherine Willows CSI Level 3 Assistant Supervisor with the Las Vegas Crime Lab", she said holding out her ID badge for him to see, so he extended a hand for her to shake in return.

The Sheriff looked her up and down. "I didn't think you looked like law enforcement. Nice to meet you Catherine. I'm Sheriff Talbert, but you can call me Richard. Let's talk inside my office."

They walked back to his office where he pulls a chair up from against the wall for Catherine to sit in before seating himself behind his desk. Sheriff Talbert leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he does so, and props his feet up on the desk. Unprofessional as all get out by Catherine's standards, but she figured the guy was in the comfort of his own office. So who was she to judge?

"What can I do you for?" asked Sheriff Talbert

"Do you know a Larry Waters?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. The convenience store owner," the Sheriff shifts in his seat taking his feet off the desk top, dropping his hands from behind his head, and sits up right. "Is this about his reports of theft?"

"Well, yeah how did you know?"

"He's always making 9-1-1 distress calls to the station claiming that someone's stealing from his store," explained the Sheriff.

"Always?" wondered Catherine.

Sheriff Talbert got up from behind his desk to head over to a filing cabinet. He thumbed through several manila colored file folders before coming across the one he was looking for. He found the one with the phone records of Larry's 9-1-1 calls handing them off to Catherine.

"Here. See for yourself. Although if you ask me the guys just paranoid," said the Sheriff sitting back down.

Catherine flipped open the folder of phone records glancing briefly at them. "It shows here that he made calls to the station every day for the past two weeks. Did you ever respond to any of his calls?"

"Yeah, of course we did. That's our job, but eventually it felt more like the boy who cried wolf. So finally I stopped sending my guys out there and just went there myself to settle matters." The Sheriff chuckles to himself before continuing. "I told Larry that unless they're vandalizing the place the police department can't be responsible for every stolen six pack. After all we've got bigger issues than kids stealing beer."

'_Of course you do_,' said Catherine under her breath. "Uh, do you mind if I keep these?"

"Sure. Take 'em they're yours. They won't do me any good. As far as I'm concerned they're just taking up space," replied the Sheriff.

Deciding that there was nothing more the local law enforcement could do to help, Sheriff Talbert escorts Catherine out of the station to the parking lot and back to her vehicle.

"Thanks Sheriff!" she said before backing out to pull away. He simply stood there waving to her before heading back into the station.

* * *

Nick and Warrick made it to Larry's convenience store, setting off the chime that alerts you when customers enter through the door. As they walk by the aisles Nick points out the security cameras mounted on the opposing walls to Warrick who wonders if they are operable or just for show. The pair make their way to the storefront counter, which Larry was standing at behind the cash register.

"Hello, gentlemen welcome to my establishment. Let me know if…" Larry quit greeting them as soon as he realized who they were.

"Hello, I'm Nick Stokes and this is Warrick Brown. We're CSI Level 3's with the Las Vegas Crime Lab here in regards to your claims of someone stealing from your store."

Nick and Warrick flashed their ID badges at Larry who seemed the least bit interested until he heard the reason behind why they were there. "You're going to have to be more specific," said Larry. "People steal from my store more often than you think. In fact, it's why I recently installed my security cameras."

"So they do work?" asked Warrick

"Yes, my son's the one who installed them," replied Larry.

"In your statement taken by officer Sanchez, you mentioned a Matt Whitman and his buddy Miles stole beer," said Nick.

"They did ,and I'll tell you what I told that other guy at the scene. I've got the footage to prove it!" replied Larry

"That's why we're here," explained Warrick, "to retrieve the footage of them stealing," he said as he took the warrant out to show to Larry.

Larry pushes his bottle capped glasses up the bridge of his nose so he could see the paper better. He then shifts his weight on his feet as if to weigh his options for what he should do next. "This way. The monitors are in the back," said Larry.

Nick and Warrick follow Larry to a back office where two security monitors show the inside of the store. Larry seats himself in an office chair as he rolls over to some shelves, which held the tapes of the security footage. The tapes were all neatly labeled and stacked on a shelf in chronological order.

"I'll be right back. Don't touch anything," instructed Larry as he left the room to get something.

"Look at this," said Nick to Warrick in reference towards the monitors. "The first security camera is positioned just above the entrance of the store, and the second is positioned on that back wall."

"Yeah, that's not a lot of coverage. I mean you can't even see down that hall to the back exit or the restrooms," replied Warrick.

They watched Larry through the security monitors that showed he went back through the store to a stock room to get a box for them to carry the tapes in. He returned, placing the box in the office chair then grabbed several tapes off of the shelf placing them in the box. Larry picked the box up off of the chair before handing it over to Nick who was closest to him.

"Here. Now I don't have copies of these tapes so I would like these back when you're done," said Larry.

"Sir, you're not getting these back they're evidence in an investigation," explained Warrick as he and Nick turned to leave.

"Well, you can't do that!" snapped Larry trying to retrieve the box of tapes back from Nick.

"Yes, we can. That's what the warrant allows us to do," said Nick trying not to drop the box while he fended off Larry.

Warrick managed to pull Larry away from Nick, who didn't go without a struggle, but finally calmed down and quit resisting. Larry straightened himself up before allowing them to leave deciding it was best to just cooperate. However, he didn't let them leave without some parting words.

"I hope you find the other guy that stole from me."

Nick was already out the door setting off the chime as he did so to load the box up in the SUV, but Warrick stopped in his tracks with one hand on the door.

Larry continued speaking knowing he at least caught the attention of Warrick. "What goes around comes around, and his buddy got what was coming to him," he said in regards to Matt Whitman.

Warrick felt anger rise up in him, much like it did in Grissom when he verbally quarreled with Larry at the crime scene. His left hand began to clench into a fist as he debated punching Larry, but he fought the urge to. Instead, he shot Larry a glaring look over his shoulder before heading on his way out the door. He climbed into the passenger seat with Nick taking notice of his colleague's change of attitude.

"Hey, man are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just drive," replied Warrick. Nick pulled out of the parking lot of the convenience store to head back to the lab.

* * *

Sara and Greg arrived at the impound lot where they remained idle awaiting for the gate to be opened. She pressed the call button on the speaker box, but got no response.

"Maybe you have to push the gate open?" suggested Greg.

Sara chuckled a little to herself. "The gates automatic and operated by the guard." She glanced in the direction of the security camera that oversaw the gate, waving, hoping that would alert the guard to give them clearance.

"Clearly friendly waving to a camera isn't working either," remarked Greg. "Got any other ideas?"

"I could try honking," suggested Sara who pressed the horn of the SUV twice before a guard met them at the gate.

"Sorry about that!" said the guard who operated the gate manually from the inside allowing them through. "It wasn't that I couldn't hear you. It's just that the talk button for the speaker box quit working yesterday, and the button for the automatic gate hasn't worked in weeks, but we've got a guy scheduled to come out here to get those things fixed soon."

Sara pulled up to the guard station, rolling her window down as she did so, to state their business. "Hi, I'm Sara Sidle and this is Greg Sanders." The guard leaned in to look at Greg who smiled and waved. "We're CSI's from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, here to retrieve a red 2004 Toyota Tundra with Texas plates."

"Texas plates, huh? Lemme check our lot inventory," said the guard as he headed back to his little station. He returned shortly after, "Can I see some ID?" he asked

"Yeah, sure," replied Sara as she and Greg presented their ID badges to him.

He collected their badges from them to further examine. Satisfied with the authenticity of their identification badges he directs them to the pickup. "It's parked on the south end of the lot."

"Thank you sir," said Sara as she pulled away.

They found the truck parked between a gray Sedan and blue minivan. After paying the fine to retrieve the truck from the impound lot, they called in one of their tow trucks to bring Miles's pickup back to the garage at the lab. Once there, Sara and Greg both suited up in jumpsuits, latex gloves and goggles, and got to work on re-examining the inside.

"Wait, I almost forgot," said Sara grabbing two medical masks, handing one to Greg. She remembered from last time that the inside wreaked of cigarette smoke.

"What's this for?" Greg wondered

"Trust me. You'll want it," she replied smiling at him as she put hers on over her ears.

Greg opened the front driver side door of the truck immediately understanding what she meant as the foul odor hit him. "Geez! I can smell it even through the mask," he said coughing slightly.

"You all right?" she asked

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's just do this quickly."

"Greg, you know what Grissom always says."

"What?"

"Do you want this done quick, or do you want it done right?" replied Sara

"Okay, but can we do something about the smell?" complained Greg

Sara went to get some box fans to try to circulate the smell from the inside of the truck.

"Thank you," said Greg.

She decided she would re-examine the back of the inside of the truck while Greg re-examined the front of the inside. He assisted her in, and as Sara scooted to the center of the back bench seat she noticed small traces of a red substance on the floor.

"Hey Greg, could you hand me a flashlight please?" asked Sara

"Yeah, sure," he said handing one to her. "What is it?"

"I don't know why I didn't see this before," she said as she leaned down for a closer look. "It looks like it might be blood."

"How do we test for blood?" asked Greg who was still new to the field.

Sara got up from all fours. "You mean you don't know?" she asked smiling at him before making a request. "Go to my kit and get the bottle marked 'luminol' and a cotton swab."

"Here you go," he said handing her the bottle and single swab. "Are you going to tell me what this stuff is?"

Her excitement was as plain as the smile on Sara's face knowing that she got the chance to teach her colleague something about forensic science. "Luminol", she began, holding up the bottle like Vanna White for him to see, "is a chemical solution that detects trace amounts of blood as it reacts with the iron in hemoglobin." She paused during her explanation to make sure Greg was following what she said so far. "The cotton swab is what we use to test it with." She handed him the bottle of luminol as well as the cotton swab encouraging him to learn. "Here, you try. Just pour some onto the swab to test the stain."

Greg did as she instructed. "How do we know if it's blood?" he asked

"The cotton swab will turn a sort of deep pink color," she replied

He swabbed the stain, but the luminol dipped tip of the cotton swab didn't react. "I don't think I did it right."

"Well, did it turn?" asked Sara as Greg handed her the swab so she could see for herself. "Nope. That means that it's not blood."

"What is it then?" he asked

She scratched at the stain on the floor with her index finger, bringing it to her nose to smell, when a voice from behind startled both her and Greg.

"It's cherry syrup from a Big Gulp," said the voice.

Sara and Greg whirled around to see Warrick standing in the doorway of the garage.

"How did you know that?" asked Greg

"Because I found a styrofoam cup with red stuff in it, tested the contents, and that's what the test results showed," replied Warrick

"There you are," said Nick. "Warrick, are you going to help me with these boxes of tapes or not?"

* * *

Brass managed to track down Miles Gardner while responding as backup to reports of stealing from a local convenience store in Vegas. As he pulled into the parking lot, Brass spotted Miles handcuffed sitting on the curb outside of the storefront while the store owner was giving his statement to Sanchez.

"Thank God you are here!" said the owner of the convenience store. "This thief," he said looking in Miles direction, "was stealing from my store. He tried to pay me with casino chips."

"What a coincidence," said Brass to Miles. "You're just the guy I was looking for," he said squatting down next to him taking off his sunglasses as he did so. "Wait, you are Miles Gardner?"

"Yeah, who are you?"

"I'm Captain James Brass with the Las Vegas Police Department. You're coming down to the station with me for questioning."

"All because I stole some beer!" said Miles

"No," replied Brass smiling smugly at Miles before adding, "because you killed your best friend."

"Naw man. I didn't kill nobody! Hey, wait!"

Brass got up off his haunches grabbing Miles by the arm, pulling him up to a standing position. He escorted him to the back of his squad car while reading him his Miranda Rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…."


	4. Chapter 4: THE RUN AROUND

**Author's Note: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.  
**

* * *

CHAPTER 3: THE RUN AROUND

After spending multiple hours of thoroughly re-examining the inside of Miles's pickup for further forensic evidence, Greg is ready to give up, but Sara isn't as determined to quit.

"I hate to say it Sara, but we've searched throughout this entire truck from front to back, and the only other evidence we've managed to collect are some hairs. Which won't do us any good because we have nothing to compare them to."

Sara sighs in defeat as she climbs out of the back passenger seat of the pickup slamming the door shut.

"You know what Greg, I think you're right." She lets out a groan, "ARGH! This is just so frustrating!"

She takes off her medical mask, and peels off her latex gloves before coping a squat against a counter, tucking her knees to her chest as she does so. Greg seats himself beside her removing his medical mask to speak with his disgruntled colleague.

"We're gonna catch whoever did this," he says trying to reassure her knowing how frustrated she'd become.

"How? We literally have nothing to go on outside of some hairs, and we only just got custody of our victim's body."

Greg places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We've solved cases with less forensic evidence than this," he says offering a small smile.

"I know that … I just…" she trails off not even knowing where the conversation is heading herself. "I'm gonna go find Grissom."

Standing up right, Sara slips out of her jumpsuit and takes off her goggles placing the discarded items on a chair near the door, before heading out of the garage to the lab.

* * *

Brass made it to the police station, where officer Sanchez escorts Miles out of the overnight holding cell, and into an interrogation room. Sanchez flipped on the lights, instructing Miles to be seated releasing him from the handcuffs, and exits the room assuring Brass he'd be right outside if he needed him. The two men sat in awkward silence as Brass observed Miles who was seated with his arms across his chest, looking too comfortable in Brass's opinion, especially if he really was a guilty man. Not in the sense of stealing, but in the sense of killing ones best friend.

Miles had jet black curly hair, with a scruffy beard to match, looked like he was in his mid to late thirties, wore a grey worn out looking t-shirt ⏤ with a single pocket on his left breast, men's Levi jeans, a blue baseball cap, and work boots with caked in mud. Brass finally engaged Miles who appeared uninterested like being there was less important to him than it should be.

"Tell me something Miles, do you make it a habit of stealing from convenience stores?"

Miles leans back in his chair slouching, inaudibly mumbling under his breath.

Brass leans forward, narrowing his eyes, mimicking Miles's mumbling before replying, "You're gonna have to speak up. I don't speak mumble."

Miles gets defensive speaking with a thick southern drawl. "I said, I wasn't stealing! I had $100."

Brass chuckles forgetting Miles is from Texas then scoffs before replying. "Yeah, in chips. You do realize those things are useless outside of the casinos? You have to cash them in before you use them."

_'I want those back by the way_,' Miles huffs under his breath uncrossing his arms.

"Is that the same excuse you gave Larry Waters? When you and your buddy Matt Whitman stole beer from his store?"

"That's what this is about? That crazy squirrelly looking bastard? I knew he'd go back on our deal!"

Brass raised his eyebrows as his curiosity peaked from what Miles said. "What deal might that be? Huh? Did you two conspire to kill your best friend?"

Miles looks at Brass baffled; his tone of voice changing from defensive to confusion. "What? No! I told you when you brought me in here that I didn't kill nobody! Matt, Matt's dead? The last time I saw him he was alive. I swear."

"That's what they all say," said Brass. "Now explain to me the deal you made with Larry."

Before explaining himself Miles takes a pack of cigarettes out from his shirt pocket.

"You can't smoke in here," states Brass.

"Pfft. Fine," retorts Miles as he lays it on the table playing with the pack by spinning it from the opposite corners.

"Matt and I hit it big at one of the casinos ⏤ Tangiers. We made a little over $2K, but we got reckless with spending it on booze and women…"

"And cigarettes," added Brass.

"Yeah, that too." Miles continued, "The deal we made with Larry was simple, $1K upfront for as much beer as we wanted. One night he took a swing at Matt for taking beer off of the shelf without paying for it. Larry got a crazy look in his eye as he chased us out of the store with a crow bar. Matt and I hightailed it outta there to my cousin's place, which is where we're staying in Goodsprings. The next morning Matt didn't get up, having been hungover from the night before, so I left him sleeping on the couch. I left my truck in the driveway so if and when he sobered up he'd have some transportation. I called a friend who picked me up, brought me into Vegas and hung out all night. Larry must've tailed us home from the night before, figured out where were staying, and killed Matt then."

"Interesting tale," comments Brass.

Miles spins the pack of cigarettes faster than intended causing them to fall off of the table and across the floor.

"Shit, can you get that?" asks Miles

"Sure. Allow me," replies Brass sarcastically as he pushes his chair back to get up. "Excuse me. I have a phone call to make," he says all the while stepping past the cigarettes and out of the interrogation room.

"Man, what about my cigarettes!" yells Miles as the door shuts.

Brass peers in front of the two way glass of the interrogation room to keep an eye on Miles while dialing Warrick's cellphone. "Sanchez, the guy dropped his cigarettes," Brass commented waiting for Warrick to pick up.

* * *

It was day two and Grissom was growing frustrated that there weren't any new leads in their ongoing investigation into the hit-and-run case. He and his team examined, and were now re-examining, every piece of forensic evidence gathered from the crime scene upon his request. He felt like they may have overlooked something. Leaning back in his chair he takes off his glasses to rub his temples in an attempt to try to sooth the oncoming migraine. He inhales and exhales deeply, but just as he finds himself able to relax, doc Robbins buzzes, requesting his presence in the coroner's office.

"What is it Al?"

"Not a good time?" he could sense Grissom's irritated tone. "I wouldn't have buzzed you if this weren't of importance. David and I just started the autopsy, and well… this isn't exactly something I can tell you over the phone. I'd rather you come down and see it for yourself."

Grissom hung up the phone. He got up from behind his desk fretting exiting his office. The moment he opened the door his sense of vision and hearing were impaired due to the increased light and sound exposure from the offset intensity of his migraine. The florescent lab lights were brighter than those in his office, and the sound of people talking and working, mixed with the noises of the machines whirring, beeping, and buzzing caused him to feel dizzy. He attempts to steady himself by reaching for the wall, but was further away from it than he judged. He'd have fallen over if it weren't for an outreached arm that offered him support for balance. The helpful hand was that of Sara Sidle.

"Easy. Are you all right?" she asked assisting him to a nearby bench where they both took a seat.

The dizziness slowly subsided as Grissom turned to look at her, not knowing if she was real because the last time he saw her he was hallucinating from the heat.

"Fine," he replied as his eyes came into focus meeting hers. He hated lying in general, but especially to her. His head was still throbbing.

"Greg and I thoroughly re-examined the inside of the truck as you requested." She paused before continuing, aware Grissom was a little off. "We didn't really find any new evidence outside of some hairs, but we've got nothing to compare them to. In regards to the set of fingerprints I analyzed earlier, there's only one positive match, and it's to our victim Matt Whitman."

Grissom interrupted Sara by placing a hand up to stop her. "I was on my way to the coroner's office when… well, before I accidentally bumped into you." He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

"I hope I didn't spoil whatever doc Robbins was going to tell you," replies Sara

"As a matter of fact he wasn't going to tell me, he said I have to _see_ for myself."

"Oh."

Grissom got up from the bench and continued on his way. Hodges blocked his path.

"Please, Hodges not now."

"But…" Hodges pleaded.

"Not. Now" said Grissom firmly.

* * *

Nick and Warrick had returned from their second trip out to Goodsprings Valley where they managed to obtain footage from Larry Water's security cameras. The pair inquired the help of A/V Technician Archie Johnson, an audio/visual surveillance specialist, to review the tapes.

"What's all this?" asked Archie

"Security footage of our victim stealing from a convenience store," replied Nick as he set the box down on a table in front of them.

"We weren't sure how good the quality of the tapes are so we were wondering if you'd do us a solid?" asked Warrick.

"I'll see what I can do," replied Archie who dug through the tapes. "This will make it a little easier," he commented taking notice of the labels.

Nick and Warrick stood next to each other observing Archie as he went to work. He wheeled the TV cart closer to the table, careful not to tug the extension cord out of the outlet, changed the input method to video, and popped the first tape into the VCR player. The quality was better than he anticipated half expecting it to be grainy, which it wasn't just in black and white. Nick, Warrick and Archie watched as the footage played showing customers coming and going from the store throughout the day as Larry attended to them from behind the cash register, but ten minutes into the first tape had them wondering about the volume.

"Why can't we hear what they're saying?" asked Nick

"Try the volume on the TV maybe it's not turned up," suggested Warrick as he and Nick began searching for the remote.

"There's no need," said Archie.

"Fine. I'll just turn it up on the TV," replied Nick who made his way to the TV, but was stopped by Archie.

"I meant, there is no audio, just video. We're just gonna have to watch until your victim appears on screen. You know what he looks like don't you?" asked Archie

"Yeah," replied Nick. "I saw enough photos that Catherine took of him at the crime scene."

"The guy behind the counter is Larry Waters," said Warrick. "He's the one who owns and operates the store."

"I kind of figured. How many more tapes are there?" asked Archie

Nick looked back in the box counting out loud to himself before replying, "Uh, one, two, three ⏤ six more"

"Great," replied Warrick sarcastically who's cellphone began ringing, startling him a bit as he presses the talk button to answer the call. "Hey, this is Warrick" he answered, stepping off to the the side of the room so as not to distract Archie and Nick from watching the tape.

"Do you have the security footage?" asked Brass. He watched through the two way glass as Sanchez picked the pack of cigarettes off of the floor handing them back to Miles.

"We're reviewing it right now with Archie," replied Warrick. "Why what's up?"

"I interviewed our dead guys buddy Miles Gardner, who informs me that the last night they were at Larry's convenience store he took a swing at Matt and chased both of them out with a crowbar. Anything on the tapes that support this story?" asked Brass

"I don't know we're just now watching the first tape," replied Warrick. "Which one do you think would show that?"

"I don't know Miles didn't specify a date, but if I had to guess I'd say the last one," said Brass

"Hang on," replied Warrick as he cradled the cellphone with his left shoulder to his ear, while he rummaged through the box of tapes on the table. He found one Larry labeled 'JUNE 02/2004' which was the latest date. "Here we go." Warrick popped the first tape out of the VCR player in exchange for the last one.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Archie

"Yeah, man we're not done watching that!" said Nick

"Just let it play guys. I think Brass might be onto something," said Warrick stepping back to rejoin them.

The three guys, four if you count Brass who was listening in, waited as the security footage played out.

"He said it happened at night?" asked Warrick to Brass whom he was still on the phone with.

"Yeah," replied Brass who was growing impatient; he really wanted to nail Miles.

"Hang on," said Warrick. "Hey Archie, can you fast forward until it's night?"

"Sure," replied Archie who grabbed the remote to fast forward.

"Wait, wait wait. Stop! That's it," said Warrick.

The tape resumed playing, showing Miles and Matt entering the convenience store right around 9:00 pm. Miles makes his way to the storefront counter to the register to purchase a pack of cigarettes. This distracts Larry who turns his back to the store as Matt moseyed down the aisles to the liquor shelf swiping a six pack under his arm. Larry rings up Miles, but gets furious as he realizes that Matt is trying to head out of the store without paying for the six pack. Larry comes from behind the counter arguing with Miles and Matt to pay for the beer. The footage shows Larry leaving, stepping off screen out of frame, only to re-enter just as Miles said, returning with a crowbar chasing the two out of the store.

"Whoa," said Archie.

"You could say that again," said Nick as the pair stood exchanging looks of shock.

"Brass, I think you've got your guy," said Warrick.

"Miles?" asked Brass

"No. Larry. The tape supports Miles's story. Larry in fact threatened to assault them with the crow bar," replied Warrick.

"Thank you," said Brass as he hung up the phone ending the call.

* * *

Grissom put on a white lab coat, grabbed an extra pair of goggles and slipped on some latex gloves before joining Dr. Albert Robbins; more commonly referred to by his friends and colleagues as doc Robbins, the teams Chief Medical Examiner, and his apprentice David Phillips; the assistant coroner, in their work domain. Upon entering Grissom saw them hard at work as doc Robbins operated a bone saw to remove the victims chest cavity splattering blood as he did so. Both doc Robbins and David were dressed in scrubs, white lab coats; now stained with blood, medical masks, safety goggles and latex gloves.

"Don't tread on me," said doc Robbins switching off the bone saw placing it on the cart table beside him.

Grissom came towards the autopsy table to get a closer look at the body deciding to play along. "Christopher Gadsden 1775," responded Grissom. "The flag is named after the American general and politician, who designed it during the American Revolution, but what does he have to do with our case?"

Doc Robbins willfully ignored his question carrying on with his work. "David would you like to do the honors?" he asked offering his apprentice the chance to remove the victims sternum and rib cage so they could better access the organs for further examination. Doc Robbins could tell by the state of the organs alone that the victim died of organ failure.

In regards to the quote the doctor exclaimed to him, Grissom couldn't help but smile to himself knowing doc just wanted the opportunity to engage in witty banter with him.

"You brought me all the way down here just so you could say that, didn't you?"

Doc just smiled at him as David handed him a pair of forceps.

"So I take it you can't tell me anything else?" asked Grissom

"I'll contact you as soon as we find out ourselves," replied doc Robbins.

"Thanks doc," said Grissom as he left the coroner's office. He hung up the lab coat on a nearby hook, laid his goggles back in the bin, and took off his latex gloves properly disposing of them in the trash on his way out the door. Before he headed out though Grissom turned to talk to doc Robbins once more.

"Hey doc?"

"Yeah, Gil?" responded doc Robbins without looking up from his work.

"I'm seeing someone," is all Grissom says as he awaits the docs reply.

This catches the doctors attention. "David, take over for me," he says passing off his medical instruments.

"Are you sure?" asks David trying to act like he didn't just hear what Grissom said.

"He's dead. You can't hurt him. I'm leaving him in your capable hands," replies doc Robbins before joining Grissom.

"I guess it's just you and me," says David to the corpse that lay atop of the autopsy table.

Grissom steps out of the coroner's office and into the hall with doc Robbins.

"You're seeing someone?" repeats the doctor while removing his mask to speak. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out as a shock."

"Yes, but not in the way that you'd think," replies Grissom reluctant to further explain himself.

"I'm a doctor not a mind reader. You're going to have to be more specific. What other way is there to see someone?" asks doc Robbins who begins guessing. "Internet dating?"

"No. I'm … _hallucinating_," admits Grissom saying the last part in a near whisper.

"Hmm. I see. May I ask when and how these hallucinations began?" Doc Robbins can tell that he's losing Grissom's attention as he appears to be looking past him rather than head on. "Gil? Are you hallucinating right now?"

Grissom complies by nodding '_Yes_' while staring off just past doc Robbin's right shoulder to where she (Sara) is standing. Unsure if it's really her or not. Doc Robbins turns around to see where Grissom's focus is directed, but doesn't see what Grissom sees.

"You can't see her can you?" asks Grissom whose eyes look vacant.

Before doc Robbins has a chance to reply Grissom's cellphone rings pulling him from his trance like stare. He reads the name displayed before answering, "Hey Jim."

"Listen Gil, I've got you your crime scene and our perp on a platter," said Brass. "I just finished interrogating Miles Gardner, our victim's best friend. He may have given us a new lead. Miles informed me that he and Matt were attacked by Larry with a crow bar, and Larry went back to finish the job by bumping off Matt."

"Where's our scene at?" asked Grissom

"Miles mentioned he and Matt were staying at his cousin's place in Goodsprings. I'm speculating Larry killed Matt at the house. I'll go back in there and get an address out of him."

"Thanks for calling Jim," with that Grissom hung up his phone ending the call.

Brass headed back into the interrogation room to press Miles for more details for the investigation.

* * *

Grissom returned to the lab where he debated who he would pair to investigate Miles's cousin's house, who he'd send to Tangiers to support Miles's alibi, and who would accompany Brass to pick up Larry to be interrogated.

Nick and Warrick were coming from the break room cutting up, arguing over a bet they made from which of their picks would win in tonight's basket ball tournament against the Las Vegas Aces. However, Grissom's presence quickly put a stop to this.

"Nick, Warrick, there's a new lead in the hit-and-run case. We have our crime scene and I need you to go back out to Goodsprings Valley to Matt's cousin's place. Brass will give you the address."

"Count me in," said Nick.

"Beats staring at photos," said Warrick as Catherine passed by. "No offense."

"None taken," replied Catherine who'd been tasked with going over the crime scene photos. She headed into the break room to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Grissom took notice. "How long have you been up?"

"Let's see," she said thinking out loud to herself as she poured a cup of coffee with cream and two sugars. "I pulled a double shift yesterday ⏤ with no break might I add, and I've been on the clock ever since, so… that adds up to, Oh, I'd say infinity hours?" she said jokingly. Catherine made her way over to the table, setting her cup of coffee down, so she had both hands free to pull up a chair without sloshing her beverage.

"Y'know I deserve a raise, Gil."

"I'll meet you half way. How about time off? Go home. Be with Lindsey," he plopped down in the chair next to hers as he began rubbing his temples again.

She took notice. "Migraines, huh? They have medicine for that."

Sara and Greg join the others in the break room. Grissom spots them unsure if Catherine can see Sara too.

"There you two are," says Catherine before taking a sip of her coffee.

That's good enough confirmation to him that he's not the only one who can see her this time. Grissom decides to send them into town. "I need you two to go to Tangiers." Truth be told he just wanted to be as far away from Sara as possible until he could figure out his hallucinations.

"What for?" asks Sara curiously

"You're going there to see if there's any evidence to support Miles Gardner's strike it rich tale," replied Grissom.

"His what? Who's Miles Gardner?" asked Greg who clearly didn't listen during the last team debriefing.

"Miles claims he and his buddy won thousands of dollars, so I want to know who, if anyone saw them there in the past week. If possible I also want you to review the security footage. I have a feeling Miles's story telling is off compared to the timeline."

Grissom turned his sights on Catherine. "That leaves you. You're with Brass."

The group split off in their respective pairings assigned by Grissom, and went back into the field with Nick and Warrick heading back out to Goodsprings Valley to investigate Miles's cousin's place, along with Brass and Catherine to pick up Larry Waters to bring him in for questioning; while Sara and Greg head into town to Tangiers to support Miles's statement of his whereabouts and winnings.

* * *

Everyone got up from the table as the meeting Grissom called was adjourned, all but Sara who sat in silence with a spaced off look.

Greg noticed when she didn't follow him. He paused to turn on his heels stopping just at the entrance of the door way. "Sara, you all right? Are you coming?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

Sara snapped out of her daze at the mention of her name. She was lost in a deep concentrated thought shaking them from her head before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine. You go on ahead. I'll be with you in a moment."

She got up from the chair deciding to follow Grissom who'd retreated back to his office. He shut the door and drew the blinds before laying stretched out on the couch with his hands clasped resting over his stomach.

'_Alone at last in the peace and comfort of…_' he thought to himself, but a knock on the door interrupted his private time. It was Sara. He knew it was her. Catherine or Brass would have helped themselves in, and Nick and Warrick were usually there upon his request. Sara was the only one who was considerate enough to knock.

"Come in."

She opened the door gently allowing herself inside standing at the end of the couch. She spoke softly aware of Grissom's condition. "I wanted to apologize for earlier." She took a seat making herself as comfortable as one could on the armrest of the couch. "Had I known that the bottle of foreign liquid was a key piece of evidence in the investigation I never would have pawned it off for Hodges to analyze," she explained.

Grissom's eyes were closed as he just laid there without responding. It wasn't that he couldn't ⏤ he was just lost in the sweet sound of her voice. One of the things that he loved about Sara was how passionately she spoke of forensics. When she didn't continue speaking his eyes flew open wondering if she was still in the room.

Then he spotted her sitting by his feet at the end of the couch, not knowing if he should move to make space for them both. He decided it best to lay still knowing his head was still throbbing. However, he could tell that whatever Sara had to say next was making her nervous because she was repeatedly playing with the velcro pocket of her cargo pants by quickly peeling it open then slowly smoothing it shut.

Despite the pang of his head from the throbbing of the migraine, he sat up on the couch placing his hand over hers so she'd stop fidgeting with her pants pocket. It dawns on him then that he could be hallucinating again, but he doesn't know for sure because this time he could touch her. Sara shoots him a small smile before speaking again.

"Sorry, I know you don't feel good so I'll try to make this short. Before I knew you were suffering from a migraine I just thought you were avoiding me."

Hallucination or not she wasn't wrong. In a sense he had been avoiding her. She tried to gage his face for a reaction to what she'd told him so far, but Grissom remained stoic as he pulls his hand back away from hers. Sara looks at him. Grissom appeared tired and vulnerable, and although she'd hate herself for it later, she takes advantage of it as she continues.

"I thought you were avoiding me because of the Lurie case."

Grissom's eyes grew wide as what she said registered in his mind. '_Oh God…_' he thought to himself as his heart rate sped up and his palms grew sweaty. '_Was she on the other side of the two way glass? Did she really hear what I said to him?_' It had been weeks since they worked that case. It also made him wonder if she did know what he said after all of this time, why she'd bring it up now. He also knows there's still a good chance he's hallucinating Sara all together.

"I heard you. I heard what you said to him and his attorney regarding the murder of Debbie Marlin, and how you felt you couldn't take the risk. I was just wondering why?"

Grissom contemplates his options. On the one hand he could be hallucinating her so what's the harm in answering to a hallucination? On the other hand if it really is Sara, he would finally have to admit his true feelings, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to accept them himself let alone explain them to her. After a long moment of silence he decides to explain himself as best he could.

"That was a hard enough case overall for the team to solve, but for me there was an added emotional difficulty. Given the nature of the crime and the suspect who bore such resemblance to … well you, Sara. Throughout the entire case I was so torn apart between my feelings for you and my responsibility for work."

Sara knew that he felt like his work was all that he had going for him, but felt he was selling himself short.

"What if you could have more than your work?" she asked swallowing hard. "What if you could have someone … to care about?"

He searched his mind recalling the theory he shared that day in the interrogation room regarding the murder. Grissom closes his eyes as he flashes back.

"I'll tell you what I told Lurie. I said it was sad that guys like us, a couple of middle-aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives. The only time we touch other people is when we wear our latex gloves. We wake up one day and realize that for fifty-years, we haven't really lived at all. Then, all of the sudden we get a second chance. Somebody young and beautiful shows up, somebody we can care about."

At this point in the re-telling of the story Sara's eyes have welled up with tears, while his have opened, as Grissom continues. She fights the urge to interrupt him to say what she'd really intended to. '_It's me, isn't it? I'm the young beautiful one you could really care about. Just say it, Grissom. Please_.'

"She offers us a new life with her. But, we have a big decision to make right? Because we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her." Grissom's breath catches in his throat as he chokes up making it hard to breathe let alone continue, but he manages to. "I couldn't do it. But Lurie did. He risked it all, and he was lost. So Lurie took Debbie's life. He killed both her and Michael, and now he has nothing."

Grissom turns away from Sara unable to look at her, but he feels her reach for his hand to hold, and doesn't try to stop her. A tear streams down her cheek as she encourages him to turn to look at her in the eyes.

"Hey," she says softly. "Look at me."

Still hand in hand he turns his whole body slowly towards her, meeting her with closed eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.

"You're not Lurie," is all Sara says.

A wave of relief washes over Grissom like it's exactly what he's been longing and secretly wanting to hear from her all along. His head has also stopped throbbing.

"Are you coming or not?" asked Greg.

He found Sara standing just outside of Grissom's office. She was unable to bring herself to knock after having listened through the door the whole time as Grissom spoke to himself.

"I told you I'd be there in a moment," replied Sara in a loud whisper as she made her way over to Greg.

"Yeah, that was like ten minutes ago," says Greg as they leave to head to Tangiers.

Grissom opens his eyes. He scans the room only to realize he's alone in his office. He feels a mix of emotions including hurt, frustration and confusion. He's hurt that he finally admitted how he really feels to the woman he loves. Frustrated that it was for nothing because he ended up admitting so to a hallucination, and confused as to why he was hallucinating her at all.


	5. Chapter 5: DRAWING BLANKS

**Author's Note: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.  
**

* * *

CHAPTER 4: DRAWING BLANKS

Nick and Warrick embark on their third, and what they both hope is their final trip, out to Goodsprings Valley. As Nick circles the block of a housing division, Warrick keeps a watchful eye on the street signs and addresses in search of Miles's cousins place. They'd been in town for thirty minutes simply driving around the residential area, aimlessly at this point. There's a hint of discouragement in Nick's voice as he asks Warrick to double check the address that Brass gave them. Nick turns onto Valley Street for the umpteenth time causing both men to grow visibly frustrated with each other.

"Man, we've been down this street twice before. At this point I'm starting to think we're lost," said Nick.

Warrick diverts his attention from looking out of the passenger window to his colleague before responding.

"Yeah, you think. Let me see the address you wrote down that Brass gave us."

He extends his left hand palm side up for Nick to place the paper in. Nick took one glance at Warwick's empty hand before pulling the car over to the center of the block coming to a complete stop.

"Why are we stopping in the middle of the street?" asked Warrick who grew more upset.

Nick takes his sunglasses off, doing so in a serious manner, to look Warrick in the eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like I have the address? You're the one Brass gave it to. I thought you wrote it down."

"No, I thought you did."

Rather than argue with each other Warrick decides to call Brass to get the address from him, but just as he dials the number Nick spots Sanchez's squad car parked in the driveway towards the end of the street.

"Wait, I see Sanchez's cruiser over there," says Nick pointing down the street through the windshield. He turns the engine over, driving down the end of the block, pulling into the same driveway.

"This is it, 347 Valley Street," says Warrick before getting out the vehicle.

He and Nick wait for Sanchez and his partner to sweep the place. When they give the go-ahead, Warrick and Nick are able to enter the premises. They grab their kits along with a camera bag from the back end, and enter through the front of the house ready to investigate. Meanwhile, Sanchez and his partner stay out front to ensure the safety of the CSI's.

Miles's cousin's place is a one level gray brick house that isn't any larger than 24000 square feet. It has an (empty) car port covered in a faded-blue tattered tarp that's held up by wooden dry rot support beams, landscaping of neglected shrubs, tall weeds and broken pottery on the front of the concrete stoop, with stairs that have three steps leading up to the front door. As they trudge up the stairs of the house they notice that the screen door has been taken completely off of its hinges. It's laying propped up against the stairs railing and appears as though it's been kicked down. Nick just raises an eyebrow in curiosity while Warrick isn't the slightest bit surprised.

"How do you think that happened?" asks Nick

"I have a hunch…" replied Warrick

Hepaused knowing better than to finish his sentence let alone share his train of thought with his colleague. (Which was Larry Waters angrily kicked down the door.) Warrick also reconsidered his thought the longer he glanced at the screen door. Knowing most screen doors are on the outside, it appeared from the indent of the shoe print that this door had been kicked from the inside out.

"We'll be sure to lift that print, but for now let's just head inside," said Nick

He declared his and Warrick's presence as well as state their business while on the scene. The pair cautiously enter the house observing their surroundings. The moment they entered through the front door the foul, heavy, lingering smell of cigarettes and booze hit them. Both men develop a slight cough due to the sudden exposure to the toxic odor. A grimace expression appears on Warrick's face as he covers his mouth and nose as best he can with the crook of his arm. Nick is so taken aback by the smell that it nauseates him resulting in him having to step back outside for some air.

Coughing, Nick excuses himself. "Man, I've gotta step out I can't take the smell."

"Naw, I don't blame you," replies Warrick

Ready to spring into action, Sanchez had one hand on the holster of his gun at the sight of Nick bolting from inside of the house. He refrains from drawing his weapon once he realizes that Nick just needed some air.

"You all right? You look a little green around the gills?"

While outside Nick can't understand how Sanchez and his partner didn't run out of the house gasping for air after having sweep the place for clearance. Warrick came prepared digging through his kit for some medical masks placing his on, and keeping one out for Nick when he returned. He felt bad for not having mentioned or reminding Nick sooner that the inside of the house could smell. After all the inside of the truck smelled and come to think of it Nick should have known too ⏤ he's the one who photographed the inside of the truck before Warrick and Sara searched it.

Warrick starts his search in the living room to the right of the entrance. The floors are wooden covered by a large area rug, a futon that appeared to also double as a bed; a pillow and comforter lay atop of it as though someone had been sleeping there, a striped armchair sat in the corner, and a wooden end table with a lamp that looked like it was made out of antlers.

"Creative," says Warrick regarding the lamp as he continues snapping pictures of their potential crime scene.

Empty beer bottles litter the coffee table as well as an ashtray filled with cigarettes. He notices that the window in the living room sustained some sort of damage. To compromise it's been replaced by plywood instead of glass pane with a set of ugly plaid singed drapes. This causes him to wonder if the window was always like that or if it was replaced by whomever bumped off Matt during a possible struggle. Nick comes back inside placing his medical mask on to rejoin his partner in investigating the scene. After spending over an hour in the house they conclude that there isn't a trace of evidence to support that Matt was killed inside the house.

"Hey man, where are you at?" shouts Warrick who finished processing the kitchen.

"BACK HERE!" yells Nick from the back bedroom as he walks down the hall back towards the kitchen.

"Did you find anything?" asks Warrick

"Naw, not a thing," replies Nick. "There's nothing that points to Larry setting foot in let alone near this place. I'm starting to think Miles is lying."

"Why lie?" asks Warrick. "Why the misdirection? If Larry didn't kill Matt who did?"

"I don't know," replies Nick. "Your guess is as good as mine, but what do you say we wrap it up and get out of here?"

Nick ise ager to leave the residence unable to stand the smell of the fumes any longer.

* * *

Meanwhile, Grissom is outside in the parking lot of the lab, crouched on his knees. The driver side door of his Denali is wide open for better access to the floor board while in search of his cellular phone. He's extended the length of his left arm as far as it will allow for him to reach under his seat.

'_Come on. I know you're around here somewhere._' The tips of his fingers brush across the familiar object as he retrieves it out from under his seat. '_Ah-ha, Gotcha!_' Upon discovery his phone begins to ring and vibrate. Before he presses the talk button he notices two missed calls from earlier by the hospital, and an incoming call from Doc Robbins.

"This is Gil."

"Where are you? You sound like you're in a broom closet?" asks Doc Robbins

Grissom takes a knee, using the driver side door for leverage managing to pull himself up to a standing position.

"In a matter of speaking I am."

Doc Robbins hears the distinct sound of a car door closing, making him aware that Grissom isn't in the lab but rather outside in the parking lot. He congratulates him on finding his phone, and encourages him to return to the coroner's office.

"I take it you have actual news for me?" asks Grissom.

Doc Robbins smiles to himself before replying, "I promise you I wouldn't have called if I didn't."

"I'm on my way. Thanks for calling."

Grissom presses the end call button securely placing his phone in his front right pants pocket as he heads back inside the lab.

* * *

Brass and Catherine head back out to Goodsprings Valley to bring Larry Waters in for questioning. They pull up to the store front when a commotion inside breaks loose. As they park Catherine notices that Sheriff Talbert is huddled for cover just outside the passenger door of his cruiser with his weapon drawn.

"What the hell is going on?" asks Catherine to Brass while she unbuckles from her seat.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Stay here. Slouch down. Under no circumstances are you to leave this vehicle," says Brass.

"I can help," she pleads.

"Brass gives her a stern look. "If you really want to help you'll do as I say."

Catherine does as she's told while Brass joins the Sheriff in cover behind his door.

"What happened?" asks Brass

Sheriff Talbert fills him in. "Larry reported another case of theft. I shrugged it off until I arrived. As I pulled up I heard shots fired. I don't know if it's a robbery in progress, a hostage situation or what. I can't see. I don't know how many people are inside."

"Stay here," says Brass I'm going to try to gain access through the back entrance. Cover me."

"You've got it," replies the Sheriff.

Brass makes his way to the back of the building where he notices a civilian vehicle, a 2004 Jeep Wrangler, is idle and left running. He hides behind the dumpster after hearing more shots fired awaiting for the suspect to possibly run out. When that doesn't happen he decides to move in with his weapon drawn as he cautiously enters through the back. He walks down the length of the hallway while checking the other rooms for clearance. Opening the first door to his left, Brass realizes it is just a supply closet full of cleaning products. A mop that was propped up against the door threatens to fall over, but his quick reflexes prevent this.

He moves on to the two doors to his right that are simply restrooms, but he bother's checking them for clearance anyway just to be on the safe side. As he nears the end of the hallway, Brass stops, spotting a Convex security mirror positioned above the left corner of the store front. In the reflection he can see Larry cowering in fear on the floor behind the register while being held up at gunpoint. The gunman is male, roughly 5'11", dressed in all black, including a ski mask armed with a pump shotgun. The gunman instructs Larry to stand up, but Larry ultimately refuses claiming he knows the gunman will just shoot him if he does.

Outside the store front Sheriff Talbert changes positions, moving from behind his car door seeking cover near the entrance. It's then that he notices the passenger door to Brass's squad car is wide open, and Catherine is nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, inside the store Brass decides to move in, but as he makes his way down an aisle towards the gunman, he accidentally bumps into a carousel stand that holds a variety of snack size chip bags. The stand topples over startling the gunman who whirls around to see Brass aiming his weapon at him.

"FREEZE! Las Vegas Police! Drop the weapon!"

Catherine creeps up behind the gunman, subduing him by heaving a fire extinguisher with all of her might, hitting the gunman square in the back of the head.

She just smiles at Brass before commenting. "Still wish I would have stayed in the car?"

Sheriff Talbert moves in with his weapon drawn, but places his gun back in the holster once he sees the gunman laying on the floor knocked out cold. Brass checks on Catherine who needs a moment to compose herself after performing such a valiant act.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but you might want to check on Larry. He's…" Catherine is cut off.

"Behind the counter. I know I could see him in the reflection of that mirror." Brass points above the register. "That was brave, but stupid Willows. Don't let it happen again." He calls out to Larry. "Oh, Mister Waters! You can come out now. It's safe."

Larry slowly, but surely gets up from behind the counter trembling all the while with fear. Meanwhile, Sheriff Talbert slaps a pair of handcuffs on the gunman who regains consciousness shortly after. Brass is eager to reveal the identity of the shooter as he kneels by the gunman to take off his ski mask.

"This feels like Scooby-Doo," he quips. "I'll bet it was the gardener," he says while peeling off the ski mask.

However, once Brass does, the identity of the shooter shocks even Larry whose eyes grow wide. He recognizes the gunman's face immediately because it's his son.

"Adam? You're the shooter?" says Larry who's more confused than outraged. "Son, why did you do this?"

"You can discuss this back at the station," says Sheriff Talbert who helps Adam to a standing position while reading him off his Miranda Rights.

Adam resists, struggling as the Sheriff pulls him up to his feet. After a moments silence he finally speaks.

"I did it for you dad," explains Adam. "I wanted to prove to you that the law enforcement truly doesn't give a shit, and they don't."

"Well," said Brass trying to defuse the awkward tension of the situation. "This family reunion is touching and all, but Larry you're going to have to come with us."

"Me? What did I do?" asks Larry in a defensive tone.

"You threatened to assault two store patrons with a crowbar," explained Brass.

Catherine searches around for bullet holes and shells from the shoot out, but none are found. "I thought you said there were shots fired?" she asks in confusion while turning to look at Sheriff Talbert.

"There were," he replies while escorting Adam out of the store front. "At least three."

"Five," corrects Brass. "I heard two more shots fired while I was around the back."

Catherine collects the shotgun as evidence bagging and tagging it to take back to the lab.

* * *

Sara and Greg arrive at Tangiers where a symphony of loud noises assault their ears, and the smell of alcohol and smoke fill their nostrils once they enter through the casino doors. The sound of slot machines, the clacking of poker chips, shuffling of cards, uproar of people talking and yelling, and music over the speaker system makes it difficult to hear. They split up with Greg asking around showing a picture of Miles to staff members and tourists to see if anyone recognizes him, while Sara chats up the head of security.

After showing the photo to several people who all claim the same thing, that they haven't seen Miles or recognize him, Greg begins to lose hope. Until he flashes the photo to a female dealer working a Black Jack table. He almost wishes that he wasn't here on business because she was considerably cute, although not entirely his type⏤she was blonde and he preferred brunettes. Greg forces the thoughts from his head reminding himself that he's there to do a job not to flirt. She let's another dealer take over the table for her so she can speak with Greg. They both step off to the side so each can hear the other better while conversing.

Greg observes her name tag. "So Veronica, you mentioned that you saw this guy," he holds up Miles's photo.

"How'd you know my name?" she asks, and he points to her name tag. "Oh, sorry sometimes I forget. Anyhow, yeah he came in here." She pauses while trying to recall when. "Last month."

"Wait? Miles was in here a month ago?" asked Greg in confusion.

"I meant two weeks ago. May 19th to be exact. I remember because I had to work on my birthday," replied Veronica. "He came in here with some other guy, and they hit the tables winning big while playing poker. Sorry, but my break is only so long and I still haven't eaten."

She turns to leave, but Greg stops her. "Wait, could you point him out if you saw him again?"

"Yeah, why?" replied Veronica

The head of security introduces himself to Sara. "Hi I'm Tim. I'll take you to where all the action is. Follow me."

Using his access key card he leads Sara through a side door, down a narrow hallway the length of a bowling lane, to a room with multiple monitors. The screens show live footage of the inside and outside of the casino from IP security cameras being watched by two security guards. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust from the well lit hallway to the dim light flashing from the television screens.

"Is this what you had in mind?" asked Tim to Sara. "This is the surveillance room. There are 2,000 cameras total connected to 50 monitors," he explains. "The 25 monitors to your right show the inside of the casino, while the 25 monitors to your left show the outside."

"Wow, that's a lot of coverage," comments Sara staring in awe of all the activity on the multiple screens.

"If you have any questions Jack and Gus can help you out," said Tim who leaves Sara to do his job.

"Hi, I'm Jack and that's Gus," says the first security guard sitting to the right of her without averting his eyes from the monitors.

"Don't mind him," says Gus to Sara. "He just takes his job way too seriously." Gus gets up from his chair to shake Sara's hand.

"I was wondering if you guys could help me find someone?" asks Sara

"Sure," replies Jack

"Who?" asks Gus

Just then the door opens causing light from the hallway to flood in as Tim returns with Greg and Veronica, the Black Jack dealer, following behind him. The room feels over crowded in such an enclosed space with that many people, so Tim lets himself out, but decides to stand just outside of the door in case he's needed.

"Hey," says Greg to Sara. "I've got someone who can help us in the investigation. This is Veronica. She said she remembers seeing Miles in the casino on May 19th because that day was her birthday," he says with an ear to ear grin not even attempting to hide his feelings for Veronica.

Sara takes notice and even in the dimly lit room she can see Greg's cheeks burn. "Right. Okay, guy's you heard him," says Sara addressing Jack and Gus. "May 19th I want to see any and all footage you've got of this guy." She takes the photo of Miles from Greg to show to them.

Gus tells Greg, Sara and Veronica to wait there. "I'll tell Tim and help him retrieve the tape."

Once Gus is gone Jack loosened up some, actually turning to look at them while he spoke. "I'd like to think that we're the eyes and ears of this casino," he comments with an over inflated sense of self-worth. Sara could tell he was very proud of the job that he has. "Just so you know," he explained, "gaming regulations require us to keep surveillance tapes for 6-months to 1-year. After that, it's up to Sam whether we want to keep them or not."

"Sam? As in Sam Braun?" asked Greg

"Yeah, he's the boss," replied Jack. "A great one at that."

"I beg to differ," says Veronica crossing her arms. "Considering he made me work on my birthday."

"He owns the casino," explains Jack. "He's not in charge of work schedules. Take it up with your shift manager sweetheart."

"Take it easy you guys," says Sara who can sense the tension forming between Jack and Veronica.

Greg whispers to Sara. "Isn't he Catherine's dad?"

"Who? Jack?" Sara whispers back

"No. Sam," says Greg

"Not now," says Sara

Gus's return puts a stop to Greg and Sara's discussion. "I've got the tape," he says holding it up, handing it over to Jack who pops it into a VCR player for them to review. "Sorry," Gus says taking a seat. "It's policy for one of us to be present while you watch the footage. Unless you've got a warrant we can't release the tape to you."

"That's fine," says Sara

"It is?" asks Greg who didn't want to have a repeat of getting in trouble like before for not going to the impound lot.

"Yeah," replies Sara. "So long as we can confirm Miles was in the casino, and Veronica can positively I.D. him. That should be good enough."

* * *

Grissom makes his way from the lab to the coroners office. He's anxious to learn what Doc Robbins has to tell him, but his path is once again blocked by Hodges, who is lingering in front of the entrance door. Hodges perks up once he sees Grissom headed his way, and is eager to tell him what he has to say.

"There you are! I knew if I hung around here long enough that you'd eventually come by," said Hodges. "I just didn't expect it to take an hour."

Grissom's patience were wearing thin with Hodges. "Would you…" he tries to step to the right to go through the second door, but Hodges moves in front of him denying him access.

"No, you told me later," said Hodges, "so I waited, and waited and waited some more, but I'm through waiting…"

Grissom gave a deep outward sigh before replying, "Okay, what is it?"

Hodges face lit up as he marveled in the moment.

"Hodges!" announced Grissom

"Oh, right. Sara gave me a bottle she found at the scene so I analyzed the contents." He paused during his explanation for dramatic effect eagerly awaiting Grissom's response to what he'd told him so far. "As it turns out it had high traces of MEG also known as Mono Ethylene Glycol or MPH Mono Propylene Glycol. Properties found most commonly in none other than…"

Grissom answers for him, "Antifreeze."

As he enters the coroner's office rejoining doc Robbins, Grissom already developed a hunch on what he wanted to tell him. "Let me guess," says Grissom. "Among the victim's stomach contents were Antifreeze."

"How did you know that?" asked doc Robbins who looked up from his work.

"Sorry, Hodges beat you to the punch," replied Grissom standing closer to observe the doc's handy work as he watched him stitch up a body.

"I'll bet you he couldn't tell you the effects it had on this guy though," said the doctor. "Given the mass amount of Antifreeze this guy ingested it wasn't the hit-and-run that killed him."

"So he was run over," said Grissom

"Yes, but being poisoned is what initially killed him," replied doc Robbins

"What did the toxicology report say? Was it alcohol poisoning?" asked Grissom

Doc Robbins explains. "Not exactly, although he would have failed a breathalyzer test if that's what you were wondering. This guy had 72 fluid ounces of Budweiser beer, and 64 fluid ounces of antifreeze in his gut," he pauses to look through his notes.

Grissom comments. "You're telling me he consumed an entire six pack of beer, and finished off half a gallon of antifreeze."

Doc Robbins continues his explanation. "Judging by the TOD and the records the ER sent over the effects of the antifreeze caused the following to Matt Whitman's body. It effected his lungs making it hard to breathe. His organs dysfunction resulting in bladder and kidney failure. The effects would have caused blurred vision that could have led to temporary or even permanent blindness had he lived. An earlier side effect was slurred speech, which he probably thought was from the alcohol. In the end Matt had a heart attack suffering from palpitations caused by a rapid heartbeat."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the lab, Catherine hands over the shotgun to ballistics expert Bobby Dawson for further examination and testing.

"Here," she says handing the gun off to Bobby. "This gun was used in a robbery at a liquor store, and I was wondering if you could tell me what kind of bullets it takes."

A few minutes later he calls her back in to the room. "Is this a joke?" asks Bobby

"Excuse me?" replies Catherine

"They're blanks," he explains while holding up a regular bullet versus a blank cartridge for comparison. "See, a blank is a type of cartridge for a firearm that contains gunpowder but no bullet or shot."

"That would explain why we heard the shots being fired, but why there were no holes or shells," says Catherine.

"Typically," explains Bobby, "these," he says holding up the bullet, "contain a lead core that's enveloped in a harder metallic case. Bullets poke out from the top of a shell, which also houses powder or a similar substance. Now, look at the shells bottom. Down there, you'll find both a rim and a primer. When the gun's trigger is pulled, a firing pin strikes the primer, causing the powder to ignite. As it burns, it rapidly releases gasses that build up with enough force to launch the bullet out of the cartridge and through the gun barrel."

He puts down the bullet then holds up the cartridge. "In contrast, blank cartridges work by doing away with the metal bullets altogether. Instead, the top of the shell is crimped or covered with a wad of paper, plastic, felt, or cotton. The wadding or crimping prevents gunpowder from spilling out. In conclusion. Fire a blank, and you'll still get that convincing gunshot noise."

"Yeah, I know," she comments

Bobby adds, "Because there is no bullet to be propelled as a result of the explosion, these special cartridges aren't likely to injure anyone⏤unless, of course, they're used improperly."

"Thanks," says Catherine.


	6. Chapter 6: LAWYER UP

**Author's Note: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictions manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**

* * *

CHAPTER 5: LAWYER UP

Ten minutes into the interrogation Brass steps outside of the room. He peers through the two way glass, and watches as Larry nervously paces back and forth the perimeter. Larry refused to speak with authorities until his lawyer was present. He had Brass call his lawyer, who informed him, that they would be there in half an hour. Sometime later, officer Sanchez joins Brass handing him a bottle of water while they wait for Larry's lawyer to arrive.

"Thanks," said Brass taking the bottle from Sanchez. Brass uncaps it and takes a swig.

"He still isn't talking?" asked Sanchez

Brass finished swallowing then re-capped the bottle before replying. "Nope. Not without his lawyer. I asked Larry if he knew his rights to which he replied, '_I know I have the right to an attorney_,' so he lawyered up, and my hands are tied until he shows.

"She," replied a voice from behind.

Brass and officer Sanchez turn around simultaneously. Standing before them is a woman wearing an eggplant colored pants suit, and a chocolate colored briefcase in tow. Her brown wavy hair is pulled back in a large claw hair clip.

"I'm defense attorney Colleen Atwood. You claim that my client threatened to assault someone. Where is he?"

"In there," said Brass thumbing over his shoulder. Colleen took it upon herself to enter the interrogation room. Larry quit pacing then looked up.

"Thank God, you're here!" he says in a relieved tone. "There seems to be some confusion…" he is cut off by his lawyer.

"I'm glad we can agree on that mister Waters. As far as I'm concerned you are innocent," said Colleen. "They have no definitive evidence to prove that you threatened to assault anyone. Shall we?" she asks motioning towards the door to leave.

"Hold up!" said Brass as he enters then closes the door to the interrogation room. "Why don't you both take a seat." He gestures to the chairs provided before seating himself. Brass looks in Colleen's direction before continuing. "As a matter of fact we do have definitive, if not, damning evidence to support the fact that your client," he turns to look at Larry, "did threaten to assault not one, but two guys with … a crowbar I believe it was?"

Colleen rolls her eyes impatiently. "Well, where's this so-called damning evidence?"

"Cool your jets lady," says Brass. "A CSI is on their way now. Let's give 'em the benefit of the doubt."

Larry is unable to meet Brass's gaze. He seems nervous, and fidgety; unable to sit still as he bounces his left leg. Nick enters the interrogation room. He wheels in a TV cart equipped with all they will need to review the tapes from the security footage.

"Sorry it took so long," says Nick. "I had to borrow this TV cart from the lab. You'd think being a police station that you guys would have one of these."

It takes him a moment or two to set up the equipment, and Larry feels he can't wait any longer. He leans over to whisper something in confidence to his lawyer.

"I don't like secrets," quips Brass leaning forward with his hands clasped. "Is there something that you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

Colleen advises Larry that he doesn't have to respond. Instead he tries to get up from his seat, but Brass refuses to let Larry leave.

"Please be seated mister Waters. My associate," Brass says referring to Nick, "will have our little feature presentation ready in a moment. Trust me, you won't wanna miss it. I haven't even seen it yet myself."

"All righty. I think I've finally got everything set up…" says Nick. He begins scrunching his nose from the unpleasant smell that has filled the room. "Does it smell like…urine to anyone else?"

"See this is why we don't keep secrets," says Brass to Larry. "If you had to go to the bathroom all you had to do was ask."

"I'm sorry," is all Larry can say as he looks down at his lap.

He appears more relaxed, but embarrassed. His bouncing leg was the only thing that kept his mind off of how badly he had to go to the restroom. As a result, he relieved himself onto the chair.

"Obviously my client isn't familiar with the procedure of being interrogated," says Colleen. "Otherwise he would have known he could have left the room at any given time to use the facilities."

She insists that Brass allow her client to take a break from being interrogated so he can clean himself up.

"I'll allow it," says Brass.

They all leave the interrogation room. Nick stands outside of the room, Brass notifies a custodian to clean up the mess, Larry goes to the bathroom, and Colleen fetches a pair of clean pants for her client to wear. Sanchez stands outside the door of the entrance to the Men's room waiting for Larry to finish doing his business. Larry checks under the stall door to see if he's alone.

Once he's done checking for clearance he takes off his pants. He pumps a couple of dollops of hand soap from the dispenser onto the stained area of his pants, places them in the sink, runs the water then attempts to scrub the smell out of them. Using the hand dryer, he tries to dry his pants. A sudden knock at the door startles him.

"Mister Waters?" Sanchez calls out through the bathroom door. "Are you about done in there?"

Larry straightens his glasses. "Uh…Just a moment!" Using the unoccupied sink next to him he splashes cold water on himself. He leans over the sink placing either hand on both sides as he attempts to get a grip on his nerves. "Easy. Everything's going to be fine. Even though that cop is intimidating. You have nothing to fear."

He frantically slips his pants back on. Placing one leg in, then the other before zipping, then butting them up and re-buckling his belt. The stain is mostly dry, but there's still a hint of urine smell to his pants. A second knock on the door causes him to grow impatient.

"Would you please…" says Larry who feels rushed, but his tone changes once he realizes who's knocking.

"Larry, it's Colleen," she says through the door. "I got you a clean pair of pants. They're not exactly what you asked for, but if you open the door I'll hand them to you."

Larry unlocks the door, but only cracks it open far enough to see through. He spots his attorney standing in front of the door, and officer Sanchez with his back turned.

"Those aren't the pants that I asked for. I told you I'm a thirty six waist." He opens the door a little further.

"These are a thirty six," replies Colleen who unfolds the pants, holding them up for him to see.

He argues with her. "No. Those are sweat pants. I wanted khaki pants like the ones I was wearing earlier." Larry reluctantly takes them from her then notices that they don't have a tag. "Where did you get these?"

"The lost and found," she replies. He shoots her a look of disgust. Colleen just rolls her eyes. "What do you expect? I'm an attorney. Not a personal shopper. I did the best I could on short notice."

"Thanks Alan," says Brass to the custodian as he wheels his mop and bucket out of the interrogation room. "Now that Larry is all cleaned up, shall we?" he says gesturing for Larry and Colleen to re-enter the room. Nick files in after them.

Once everyone is seated, Nick pops the tape into the VCR, and they all watch as it plays. It shows Larry standing behind the counter at the cash register. Miles and Matt enter the convenience store right around 9:00 pm. He greets them. Miles makes his way to the storefront approaching the counter. He points to the cigarettes behind Larry to distract him. As Larry's back is turned, Matt moseys down the aisles to the liquor shelf swiping a six pack under his arm. Larry rings up Miles cigarettes, but becomes furious as he realizes Matt is trying to head out of the store without paying for the six pack. He steps out from behind the counter. An argument ensues between the three men. The footage shows Larry leaving, stepping off screen and out of frame.

"Where'd you go?" asks Brass to Larry.

Larry turns to look away. He can't bare to look in Brass's direction or watch the footage any further, which shows him returning with a crowbar. He violently swings it above his head chasing Matt and Miles out of the store. The tape ends. Colleen sighs. She's in disbelief, and disappointed in her client.

"We're prepared to make a deal."

"Okay. How's this…what size shoe do you wear?" asks Brass

"Excuse me?" replies Colleen

"Not you," says Brass your client. "You. Eh, Larry what's your shoe size?"

Colleen turns to look at her client. "You don't have to answer…" she says, but is cut off.

"NO!" says Larry in a stern tone. This startles his attorney who jumps a little in her seat. "I'd rather cooperate and do as they ask than listen to you and go to jail. I wear a size ten and a half." He leans down, and begins to untie his shoes.

"That won't be necessary," says Nick.

"Then why'd you ask?" asks Colleen. Her curiosity had peaked.

"I'm glad you asked," replied Brass. "Here's our theory on your client. Larry had enough of local teenage sleuths terrorizing his store, and out of town rednecks is where he decided to draw the line."

A tap on the glass causes Brass to pause his story telling.

"Excuse me," he says scooting out of his chair to answer the door.

It's Catherine, who hands over a manila colored file folder. Brass flips it open, glances at it, and gives a complacent smile.

"Thank you." He closes the door, re-seats himself, and places the file folder in the center of the table.

"What's that?" asks Larry.

His attorney insists on seeing whatever is in the folder. Brass slides it closer for her to take a look. Colleen looks through noting they are phone records of Larry's 9-1-1 distress calls to local law enforcement. They date back as far as two weeks ago. As she goes over them Brass continues his theory.

"Knowing local law enforcement were doing nothing to help you. You had your son, Adam, install security cameras in your store hoping to be taken a bit more seriously. You felt ignored, and finally decided you've reached your breaking point. So you take justice into your own hands because you weren't about to let Matt and Miles go back on your deal."

"Wait? What deal?" asked a confused Larry.

"The one the three of you made when Matt and Miles won big a Tangiers. Remember?" asked Brass. "Miles told us that the deal was simple, $1K upfront for as much beer as they wanted. Did you decide that wasn't enough?"

"No!" said Larry.

"Stop talking," Colleen advises.

"I'll bet you, you did," says Brass. "Which is why you took it out on Matt. You followed them to Miles's cousin's place. You stake the place out. But Miles is picked up by a friend leaving Matt by himself. You decide revenge on one of them is better than none. You meant to kill him and Miles, but settled for the guy who was home alone. You kick down the screen door and killed Matt."

"NO! No! I didn't kill anybody!" screams Larry as panic rises in his voice. He looks at his attorney with pleading eyes.

"Easy Mister Waters!" says Colleen trying to keep her client calm.

"I'd believe you," says Brass. "If we didn't have your shoe print on Miles's cousin's screen door."

He hopes they don't call his bluff. So far Larry's looking like their prime suspect in the case, but only if they can match his shoe print. Larry leans down to take off his shoes. This time he doesn't even bother untying them to take them off. He slips them off willingly handing them over. Nick collects Larry's shoes as evidence, and leaves the interrogation room.

"Do you really think that's what happened?" asked Catherine to Nick.

"I won't know until I make the comparison," he replies.

* * *

Catherine returns from the police station to the lab. She crosses paths with Grissom.

"Have you seen Hodges?" he asks

"No why?" she replies, but he doesn't answer her. Instead he continues on his way.

Grissom walks past two work rooms and the break room before he comes across Hodges. He finds him flirting with a female lab technician in the hallway. Grissom stands just behind them, clearing his throat to make his presence known. The lab technician leaves. Hodges wonders why until he sees Grissom standing behind him. His confident grin fades to a look of embarrassment for having been caught flirting instead of working.

"I wanted to know more about that yellow bottle," says Grissom.

"Right. The empty bottle of Antifreeze. What more is there to tell?" asks Hodges

"Were there any fingerprints?"

"Uh, that's not my job," replies Hodges who can tell from the look Grissom is giving him, is not the answer he was expecting. "I mean⏤ it is my job, but Sara…"

"Thank you," says Grissom.

He continues on his way in search of her. Being around Sara is the last thing he needs right now, but if he and his team are going to get a lead in this investigation she's the one to see. Grissom finds her analyzing fingerprints in the data base for comparison. She's sitting on a stool, resting her head on one hand while watching the computer compare prints.

He stands just outside of the doorway unable to allow himself to approach her. Sara gets the feeling she is being watched, but by the time she turns around to see if someone's there, Grissom's gone. He felt light headed and retreats for his office. Closing the door behind him, and leaning up against it. He closes his eyes, but they fly open at the sound of a voice.

"Hiding out are we?"

It's Catherine. She steps out from the corner.

"Not you too," says Grissom.

He's unable and unwilling to look in her direction for fear he's hallucinating her as well.

"Not me too?" she repeats. "Are you feeling all right?" Catherine steps closer towards her supervisor who backs away from her. She can tell he's on edge so she stays where she is. "All right. I'll stay where am." She speaks calmly and softly to him. "Greg told me I might find you in here. He said you've been hiding out for the past couple of days."

"I trust that's not the only reason you're in my office," says Grissom.

He cautiously walks around her making his way to his desk.

"Being out in the heat affected you didn't it?" asks Catherine with concern in her voice.

Grissom doesn't respond. He takes his glasses off, but just misses placing them on the edge of the desk. His head starts throbbing as she continues talking.

"I knew it!" she says.

He feels like his head is pulsating on one side.

"The heat. The migraines," she says.

Grissom begins to lose his balance. He feels uneasy as a wave of nausea overcomes him.

"The combination of the two can't have been good for you. You should have doc take a look at you," she says.

"Catherine…" he says as the room begins to spin. He collapses to the floor.

"GIL!" she rushes over to him. He lays there passed out.

* * *

Grissom's team sat in the waiting room of the hospital hoping for an update on their Supervisors current condition. Nick, Warrick, Greg, and Sara were all seated in chairs, but Catherine was pacing back and forth.

"You've been doing that for the past two hours. Would you please stop!" said Sara.

"Sorry, I'm nervous," replies Catherine.

Nick grabs her hand when Catherine passes by him. He flashes her a small smile. "We all are." She lets go of his hand when she spots the doctor.

"How is he? Can we see him?" she asks. The other's rise out of their chairs in the presence of the doctor.

He flips through his paperwork before replying, "I'm doctor Lyle Wexler a neurologist specialist. Your…supervisor is going to be fine. His condition is stable. He's resting."

"What happened?" inquired Sara.

"From the tests that we ran it appears your boss suffered from a Chronic Migraine Attack," explained the doctor. "In general, migraines can follow an aura of sensory disturbances followed by a severe headache that often appears on one side of the head. It can cause a severe throbbing pain or pulsing sensation. The pain can be so severe that it interferes with your daily activities. Which is what appears to have happened to Mr. Grissom. It's often accompanied by nausea, vomiting, and extreme sensitivity to light and sound. Chronic migraine attacks can last for hours to days; typically 72-hours. Though it is rare, some people do suffer from hallucinations."

"What brought it on?" asks Nick.

"Hard to say," says the doctor. "The cause of migraines is not yet known. Some people who experience migraines can clearly identify triggers or factors that cause the headaches, such as hormonal changes, emotional triggers, physical causes, triggers in diet, medications, triggers in the environment."

"Like what?" asks Greg.

"Women with migraines…" begins the doctor, but his explanation is cut off by Catherine who gets snappy.

"I don't care about the effects of women with migraines. We want to know what caused his migraine."

The doctor lets out a sigh. "It⏤uh, could be linked to a number of things. If your boss has been under a great deal of pressure lately it could be stress-related. Tiredness and insufficient sleep, shoulder or neck tension, poor posture, and physical overexertion have all been linked to migraines. Low blood sugar and jet lag can also act as triggers. Alcohol and caffeine can contribute to triggering migraines. Some specific foods can also have this effect, including chocolate, cheese, citrus fruits, and foods containing the additive tyramine. Irregular mealtimes and dehydration have also been named as potential triggers. Flickering screens, strong smells, second-hand smoke, and loud noises can set off a migraine. Stuffy rooms, temperature changes, and bright lights are also attributed."

"We've heard enough," says Warrick.

"Can we see him?" asks Catherine

"Yes. But only one of you. We don't want to overwhelm him," replies the doctor

"How do we decide who…" says Greg, but the choice is obvious as Sara steps forward.

"Follow me," says the doctor. He leads her through the double doors, and out of the waiting room. He presses the button to call for the elevator.

* * *

As he regains consciousness Grissom's eyes begin to focus, looking at her. '_Oh no…_' he thinks to himself. There she is. Sara. Leaning in the windowsill looking angelic, from the sunlight shining through. She turns to look at him. His first instinct is to panic, afraid that he's still hallucinating, and he debates calling out for help or a nurse. Sara approaches him.

"You're awake," she says grinning. She reaches for his hand; their fingers interlock. "I'm glad that you're all right."

"I am, but you're not. What's wrong?" he asks. A moment of silence passes between them before she decides to speak again.

"How hard is it to tell someone else how you really feel?"

Grissom sighs as he lets go of her hand.

"I'm asking because apparently it's very hard for you."

He feels tired and frustrated. He decides to get to the bottom of this once and for all. He flat out asks her. "You're not really HER, are you?"

She smiles at him before replying. "I am. In a sense. I'm the version of her you wish you could be honest with."

He feels hurt by what she implied. "I'm honest with her. I've never lied."

She looks at him knowingly. "I wouldn't still be here if that were the case. You know, it's just as hard for you as it is me⏤her. She heard you both times. Once through the two-way glass of the interrogation room, and again through the door to your office."

Grissom lays there speechless, but listens intently at what she has to say.

"What do I do?" he asks.

"Be honest with her, and yourself. Tell her."

His hallucination of Sara disappears before his eyes in the ray of sunlight through his window.

Meanwhile, in the waiting room Catherine processes the doctors explanation. It all made sense to her now. Grissom was experiencing most, if not all, of those things. The signs and symptoms were all there. He had been under a great deal of stress lately, working longer and later hours than usual resulting in overexertion. It caused him to become rundown, and the more that she thought about it he did appear tired from insufficient sleep.

"Why didn't I notice before?" she asks herself thinking out loud.

"Catherine," says Nick. "Don't beat yourself up over this."

Dr. Wexler shows Sara to Grissom's room. A nurse finishes checking his vitals. She spots Sara standing in the doorway, and encourages her to come into the room.

"It's all right. You can come in if you'd like," says the nurse.

She smiles at Sara on her way out, leaving her and Grissom alone. Overcome with emotion; Sara begins to cry. She felt a mixture of emotions including sad, anger, and hurt all at the same time. She's sad to see him in his current condition. Angry at him for not telling her; at herself for not noticing sooner, and hurt from the emotional conflict within.

Grissom watches as she musters the courage to approach his bedside. One thing he learned from hallucinating her is that actions speak louder than words. If that's the case, he didn't want to bother with trying to tell her how he really felt a third time. He decided he was going to show her. As she leans down he can tell her intention is to kiss him on the forehead. Instead he captures her lips with his. Overall, she is shocked by his sudden display of affection, but she doesn't break the kiss. They pull away from each other, and she feels him wipe away the tears she shed with his thumb.

Grissom begins to speak. "Listen, I…"

He wants to tell her that he loves her, but there's no need for him to explain himself. The look conveyed in his eyes says it all to Sara.

"I know," she replies.

* * *

Accompanied by officer Sanchez, Nick heads back out to Good Springs Valley. He wants to compare Larry's shoes to the shoe impression left on Mile's cousin's screen door.

"Thanks for taking me back out here," says Nick.

"No problem," replies Sanchez.

Nick was in such a rush, to leave the property, from the foul smell, that he forgot to lift the impression the last time he was out there. They near the end of the block, and immediately see something is amiss. As Sanchez parks the car in the driveway, Nick notices through the windshield that the screen door is no longer there. Both men exit the vehicle.

"I know I'm not crazy," comments Nick. "There was a screen door propped up against this railing."

"Yeah, I know. So where did it go?" asks Sanchez.

They look around the yard, and observe the carport.

"Beats me," replies Nick.

Officer Sanchez's attention is directed to the backyard. He spots a suspicious character through the slits of the wooden fence. He decides to pursue them, drawing his weapon from his holster, and advises Nick to stay near the car while he investigates. The cop unlatches the gate, cautiously sweeps the backyard, and loudly announces his presence on the scene.

"LVPD. I'm officer Sanchez. Come out whoever you are. I don't want any trouble. I just want to talk."

As he approaches the end of the outside of the house; before he can react, he is rendered helpless. In one swift swing the assailant attempts to knock him out with a shovel.

The officer cries out in pain alerting the CSI who runs to his aide. Nick spots Sanchez on the ground, and rushes over to help.

"Are you all right?" ask Nick, shocked to find Sanchez with a bloodied nose.

"AH! I⏤I think he broke my nose!" replies the officer.

Nick pulls out a rag from his back pocket to give to Sanchez in hopes it will stop the bleeding.

"Where'd he go?" asks Nick.

Sanchez tries to speak, but Nick can't understand him. His explanation is muffled by the rag. The cop points in the direction of the shed. Nick races over noting the door is wide open, but no one's inside.

"Unless this guy's Houdini. I don't see how he escaped," says Nick returning to the officer.

Sanchez sniffles a couple of times before pulling the rag away from his face to speak. "Not the shed. The fence. He went over."

Nick jumps the fence realizing the assailant didn't make if very far. He sees him being attacked by the neighbors dog.

"AH! Get this thing off of me! It's gonna tear off my leg," says Miles.

"Miles Gardner. Why am I not surprised?" says Nick. He stands there watching as the large dog chews up Miles's pant leg. "Nonsense. He's just playing." Nick whistles for the dog who obediently stops, and comes right to him. "Good boy, whose a good boy?"

Sanchez joins them, whipping out and slapping on a pair of handcuffs while reading Miles his Miranda Rights. Nick lovingly pets the dog as it licks his face. "Good, bad dog."

He learned from the neighbor that the screen door was put out with the trash. Luckily, the local sanitation department hadn't collected it yet, and he is able to compare the shoe impressions.

* * *

Larry can't bring himself to use the bathroom while in his temporary holding cell at the precinct.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The toilet is overflowing with un-flushed toilet paper, urine and feces. The smell alone is enough to make anyone gag. He tries to persuade one of the officers to allow him to use the other facilities, but they ignore him.

"Typical. Why did I think you would treat me any different being behind bars?"

In attempts at picturing life in prison, he wraps his fingers around the cold metal of his cell bars. He figures he might as well get use to the feeling. He rests his head on the bars looking down at the ground, and notices a pair of feet that wore women's shoes. Larry drags his eyes to meet up with the gaze of the person they belong to. It's Catherine.

"I know that I'm probably one of the last people you want to talk to," she begins, and he steps away from the bars.

"If you know that then why are you here?" he asks seating himself on the bed. "I already told you what I know."

Catherine is reminded that Larry isn't wearing any shoes as she looks down at his feet.

"What more could you people want from me?" he asks.

"How about your fingerprints?" she asks

"Oh no," he replies. "I'm probably breaking the rules enough as it is by just talking to you without my lawyer present."

"Mister Waters, I assure you. You're doing no such thing."

"Wait a second… Aren't you the one who knocked my son unconscious with a fire extinguisher?"

Catherine fears if she answers honestly, Larry could refuse to speak with her any further. After a moment of contemplating she decides to tell him the truth.

"Yes, but…"

"How is he?"

His response throws her off guard. Larry searches Catherine's face for a reaction, but can't read her.

"Do you have any kids?"

She doesn't answer, but he can tell from the look on her face that she does.

"From one parent to another. Please, I want to know if he's okay."

She sees the look of dread in Larry's eyes.

"In all honesty, I can't tell you how he is even if I wanted to because he's being held in Goodsprings Valley police custody. I want to help you. If you cooperate…"

"Cooperate?"

Larry gets up from the edge of the bed. He walks over to her. Fury rises in his voice as he begins to speak.

"You asked for my statement. I gave it to you. You wanted the security tapes from my store. You took them. You wanted my shoes. I handed them over. I've been cooperating!"

"I think I can prove your innocence, but only if you let me take your prints for comparison," she says.

Larry feels tired and defeated. He figures his situation can't get any worse than what it already is. He gives his consent to allow Catherine to take his prints. As she collects her kit to leave, Larry calls out to her.

"Hey."

She turns to look at him.

"Thank you."

She smiles at him before heading back to the lab with her newfound evidence. The officer's who ignored Larry, bring in a rather obnoxious and loud perpetrator. Larry listens and recognizes the perps voice as they come closer. It's Miles Gardner. He fights the officers every step of the way as they remove his cuffs. To Larry's dismay they place him in the temporary holding cell next to his.

"Hey! Hey! C'mon now!" says Miles.

The officers walk away. Miles doesn't like being ignored.

"Is⏤is this about me breaking that guy's nose? I didn't mean it. I didn't mean anything by it. IT WAS SELF DEFENSE!" he yells while climbing the bars.

Larry covers his ears with both hands to block out Miles's yelling. To distract himself he looks around the interior of his cell. The floor was concrete while the walls were covered with obscenities; some carved by foreign objects and one written in…blood from the previous cell occupants. Larry wondered if all the cells look the same or not. He hears Miles speaking, assuming it's out loud to himself. It isn't until Miles bangs on their shared wall that Larry realizes he's trying to get his attention.

"Hey! Who's in there?" Miles cackles.

Luckily, Larry doesn't have to answer.

An officer comes to keep Miles in check. He bangs on the bars of Miles's cell with his night stick.

"Pipe down in there! I won't let you out if you don't cooperate."

Miles backs away from the bars. He puts his hands up defensively as if to surrender.

"I'll be good."

Larry thinks that morning can't come fast enough.


	7. Chapter 7: DON'T TREAD ON ME

**Author's Note: I do not own CSI or any of the characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**

* * *

CHAPTER 6: DON'T TREAD ON ME

The next day Grissom put Catherine in charge of his team for the remainder of the investigation. She had them all regroup back at the lab in the break room to further discuss matters. It felt vastly different to her calling a meeting without his leadership. Everyone seated at the table Sara, Greg, Nick, and Warrick looked to Catherine for guidance.

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's get started." She seats herself, but before she could begin, Hodges walks into the room with an announcement.

"Grissom. I got a hit on…"

Everyone directs their attention towards Hodges, who appears confused.

"Where's Grissom?" His confusion is understandable. He wasn't aware of what happened. Nick looks to Catherine.

"Do I tell him, or should you?"

Catherine opens her mouth to speak, but she is interrupted.

"I'm right here," says Grissom. He walks into the room seating himself at the far end of the table.

Everyone appears shocked including Catherine who argues, "Don't take this the wrong way, but should you even be here after what happened?"

"I'm not. I'm just here to observe," insists Grissom.

"What about…" asks Catherine, but he cuts her off.

She was going to ask about the doctors orders until he pulls a pill bottle from his jacket pocket. Sara gets up from her seat. She goes over to the water cooler to pour him a cup so he can take his medicine. Catherine fills Hodges in on what happened.

Grissom pops two Topamax in his mouth as prescribed by his doctor. He takes a swig of water, and swallows before saying, "Continue. Wait. Hodges."

Hodges observes that every seat at the table is taken.

"I can't. There isn't an available chair."

Grissom replies, "I wasn't implying that you join us. I was hoping you could indulge us all by sharing your findings."

"Oh. Right. Yes. I got a hit on the prints you wanted me to lift from the bottle of antifreeze."

Sara asks Hodges, "Antifreeze? Is that what that yellow bottle was that I gave you?"

"Yes," replies Hodges. "I lifted three separate sets of prints off of it."

"Well… who do they belong to?" inquired Catherine. Hodges hands over the paper to her so she could see for herself. "One set belongs to our victim Matt Whitman. The second set belongs to Miles Gardner."

Nick points out, "Of course Miles prints are going to be on the bottle. It's his truck. If he was low on coolant he'd be the one to refill it."

Sara argues, "Not necessarily. If he got his vehicle serviced someone else could have done it for him."

"GUYS!" scolds Catherine not wanting to let Grissom second guess putting her in charge. "Anyhow, moving on. The third set of prints belong to…" Her eyes scanned the paper in search of the results.

"Larry Waters," answers Warrick.

"How did you know that?" asks Hodges.

Everyone at the table directs their attention to Warrick.

"Hey, I know what you're all thinking '_If you knew that the whole time then why are you just now telling all of us_', but I only just learned that myself. I got a hunch regarding the receipts. I remembered the confusion over the beer, and whether or not it was stolen or purchased, so that got me thinking to go back over the rest of the receipts. From there I looked back through them, and noticed something. So with the help of Archie, I reviewed the security tapes from Larry's store."

"Without me. Where was I?" asked Nick who felt a little hurt.

"In Goodsprings with Sanchez," replies Warrick adding, "I noticed on one of the tapes that Miles purchased the antifreeze from Larry's store prior to the night Matt was killed."

Greg admits, "I don't know if I'm following all of this correctly or not."

Grissom clarifies, "This means we know that our victim was poisoned, and we have two potential suspects."

Catherine is confused. "Wait. Matt was poisoned, and not run over?"

"Actually he was both," corrects Grissom. "But doc Robbins said it was the antifreeze that killed him. Now all we have to do is learn who did it and why."

* * *

Larry slept as well as one could expect in a temporary holding cell. He awoke with a stiff neck and a pain in his lower back. Swinging his legs off of the side of the ⏤ lets call it a bed, he arose yawning, and stretching. Brass stood just outside of his cell.

"They say only guilty men sleep in jail."

Larry sighs at the remark. Brass signals for an officer to release him.

"You're letting me go?" asks Larry

"Not exactly," replies Brass.

Officer Carter lets Larry out, closing the cell door behind him. He takes out a pair of handcuffs, ready to place them on Larry, but Brass stops him.

"That won't be necessary. Will it?" he asks looking at Larry.

"No" replies Larry.

"All righty then. This way," says Brass

Part of Larry wanted to peek into Miles's cell to see if he was still in there or not, but officer Carter ushers him away before he has the chance to. Brass leads them past the front desk, and down a hallway. Larry takes in his surroundings. The hallway was considerably wide, enough so, that four people could pass by without rubbing shoulders. He watched as officers escorted a hooker away, and wondered what had to go wrong in a person's life for them to resort to turning tricks.

As they continued walking they passed by flyers and posters that hung on the walls of Most Wanted People and Missing Children. The smell of commercial cleaning agents hung heavy in the air, he noted. It isn't until then, that Larry is reminded he's in his stocking feet as he practically slips on the freshly waxed floor.

"Easy!" says officer Carter trying to prevent his fall.

Brass turns around to see what the hold up is.

"Sorry," replies Larry.

The cop looks down at Larry's feet, and shoots him a look of confusion.

He points out, "Hey Brass, this guy isn't wearing any shoes."

Carter's radio goes off as he's called in. He spots Sanchez chatting in the hallway and asks him to help out.

"Sure Carter, you go on ahead," says Sanchez who takes Larry by the arm.

Once he's seated in the interrogation room, Larry can't peel his eyes off of Sanchez. He's in shock and awe from his appearance; the last time Larry saw him Sanchez didn't have a broken nose.

"Mister Waters? Have you been listening to a thing that I've said?" asks Brass who follows Larry's gaze. He sighs. "Sanchez. Would you mind stepping out?"

"Sure thing."

"Now that we're alone…" begins Brass, but Larry interjects.

"What uh, what happened to him?" asks Larry gesturing to his nose.

"Your pal Miles Gardner took a shovel to his face," replies Brass.

Larry takes offense towards Brass's implication.

"I told you before…we aren't associated with one another. I didn't even know Miles or Matt, for that matter, until they walked into my store."

"Which was when exactly?" wondered Brass.

Greg and Catherine stand in the observation room watching through the two-way glass as Brass interrogates Larry.

Greg points out to her, "I'm new to this so maybe I've got it wrong, but it seems to me like Brass is treating Larry more like an informant than a suspect."

"You're not wrong," she replies. "The only thing Larry is guilty of is attempted assault, but that's only because it was caught on tape. We were able to rule him out as a suspect. His shoe impression didn't match the one Nick lifted off of Miles's cousin's screen door. Although his fingerprints were a perfect match to one of the sets Hodges lifted from the bottle of antifreeze; we were able to determine it happened from Larry stocking the product on his shelves."

"Okay, so why not just let him go?" asked Greg

"Because we're hoping we can use the information that Larry tells us to lead us to the real killer," says Catherine.

She and Greg exit the observation room and leave the precinct. On their way back to the lab she determines who she'll send to retrieve surveillance footage from a traffic camera. Something Larry mentioned to Brass during the interrogation made her want to follow up on a hunch. She passes Nick and Warrick in the hallway so she decides to send them.

"Nick. Warrick. I'm glad that I caught you…" she begins, but Nick cuts her off, objecting.

"Huh-uh. No way."

"No way? You don't even know what I'm going to ask," says Catherine.

"He doesn't speak for me," chimes Warrick. "Whatever it is I'll do it."

Nick gets defensive. "If it's to make a fifth trip out to the desert. You can forget it!"

His refusal was understandable to her. Nick had been out there the most. The first time was when the team got the call about the hit-and-run. The second time was to collect the security tapes from Larry's store. The third time was to investigate Miles's cousin's place, and the fourth trip he made was to compare shoe impressions. Nick begins to walk away passing Sara as he does so. Catherine spots her and decides to send her instead.

"Fine. I'll send Sara."

Sara looks up.

"Where? To do what exactly?"

Knowing Nick is still in ear range of their conversation Catherine says it loud.

"You can go with Warrick to the Nevada Department of Transportation. I need someone to retrieve some surveillance footage from a traffic camera."

Nick, having heard what she said, heads back towards them.

"I can do that."

Catherine smiles at him.

"That's what I like to hear."

* * *

Sara continues on her way in search of Hodges.

"Hey, will you come with me for a moment? There's something that I have to do, but I don't want to do it alone."

Hodges raises an eyebrow feeling flattered.

"Really?"

"Stop it! It's nothing like that! Would you just come with me, please?"

While standing off to the side out of sight, Sara shoves Hodges in the doorway of Grissom's office. She encourages him to get his attention somehow. Grissom sat at his desk staring at a pile of paperwork including evaluation forums he'd completed, but yet to hand in. Despite his door being wide open, Hodges bother's knocking on the doorframe.

Grissom motions for him to come it, but quickly realizes Hodges isn't alone as Sara follows behind him. He feels a twinge of panic hoping she's real. All the while Grissom goes back over the list of side effects in his mind, printed on the warning label of his pills, hoping hallucinations isn't one of them. Both Hodges and Sara are seated in chairs in front of Grissom's desk. Hodges spots the evaluation forums on the desk, and Grissom quickly covers them up.

"Hodges. If this is about you wanting to go out into the field you can forget it."

Hodges tries to interject, but Grissom continues.

"Besides you're too valuable an asset in the lab. I don't care what Greg told you, or how glamorous you think it is, and I thought I reminded you the last time we discussed this that you get paid less in the field than you do in the lab."

Sara speaks up.

"That's not what this is about. He's just here to prove a point."

Grissom got the just of what Sara was attempting to do. Hodges is present to prove that Grissom isn't hallucinating nor is he the only one who can see her. Hodges attempts to get up.

"I feel like I've done that. So I'm just gonna…"

"Stay seated," says Grissom.

"Yes sir," replies Hodges as he quickly re-seats himself.

Sara continues.

"The doctor told me that I was the center of your hallucinations."

Grissom leans back in his seat hanging on to her every word.

"I'm here to tell you that I'm real, and I heard you ⏤ what you said. Both times. I understand now why you didn't have the audacity to tell me."

"I did," argues Grissom. "I just didn't know it wasn't _really_ you. The truth is, I was seeing you everywhere. In my Denali. In my office. In the coroner's office. I even saw you in my room at the hospital."

"That was me," says Sara.

"Forgive me if I don't trust my eyes," replies Grissom.

"If you don't trust what you see, then trust what you feel," says Sara.

She emerges from her seat approaching Grissom behind his desk. He watches as she makes her way over to him, and grabs either side of his face while kissing him passionately. Hodges clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and feels awkward towards still being present.

"So, you do love me?" asks Sara breaking the kiss.

"I…" Grissom searches his mind for the right words. "I care very deeply about you, yes."

* * *

As they walk up to the entrance of the Nevada Department of Transportation, and head through the double doors, Warrick asks Nick to remind them why they're there.

"We're following up on a hunch Catherine had from Larry's interrogation."

"That's reassuring," says Warrick taking off his sunglasses.

Both men approach the counter presenting their ID badges to the employee working the front desk, and state their business.

"Hi. I'm Nick Stokes."

"And I'm Warrick Brown."

"We're CSI's from the crime lab," says Nick adding, "We're here to retrieve surveillance footage from the traffic camera of the intersection. Specifically Nevada State Route 161 leading out to Goodsprings Valley. We believe the gentlemen in the footage is a prime suspect of a hit-and-run we're currently investigating."

The guy at the front desk was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even bother looking up from what he was doing, until the words '_hit-and-run_' registered in his mind. The guy stopped what he was doing immediately.

"Yeah. I heard about that. What a tragic act of stupidity."

Nick and Warrick exchanged looks of confusion.

Warrick requests, "We're gonna need to see the tape and or tapes."

"Sure, you boys got a warrant?"

Nick whipped out the warrant that Brass signed off on before they headed out there, and presented it to him. The guy behind the desk took a quick glance at it before signaling for them to follow him. He led them to where they keep all of their surveillance videos.

"Take your pick," he said as he laughed heartily while walking away leaving them to do their job.

Neither got the joke until they saw what he meant. There were stacks of unorganized tapes everywhere.

"Aw, man!" said Nick. "Surely not all of these are footage of that one intersection."

"Hey, man look on the bright side," says Warrick.

"Is there one?" asks Nick who began looking through the tapes.

"Yeah, at least they're labeled," replies Warrick picking one up to show him.

After spending more time than anticipated simply collecting tapes ⏤ 50 to be exact ⏤ Nick and Warrick decide to just bring them all back to the lab.

"If anyone can figure out a way to determine what's what in these tapes it's Archie," says Nick while grabbing one of the many boxes they'd take back with them.

Back at the lab he and Warrick struggle to keep their eyes peeled while reviewing the tapes with Archie.

"I give up. My eyes burn," said Warrick slumping in his seat after looking at what felt like hours of endless footage.

They watched as vehicle after vehicle drove through the intersection. Some had local license plates, some were from out of town, but none of them were Miles's pickup.

"What kind of vehicle does this guy drive again?" asked Archie.

Nick lets out a sigh before replying, "A red, 2004 Toyota Tundra with Texas plates. Number VFG 8194." He leans his head on his hand to support his head from falling asleep on the table. "How do you do it?" asks Nick to Archie.

"It's my job," replied Archie. "How do you do what you do?" he asks in return.

Archie rejoices having spotted Miles's pickup in one of the videos. He also puts together a time stamp using cab and bus schedules to pinpoint the time the photo was taken.

* * *

Brass brought Miles back in for a second round of interrogation. They were able to collect enough evidence to prove he did it, but knew that he was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. He got his paperwork in order, glancing at it once more before handing it off to Sanchez. Catherine sat in on the interrogation, too. Meanwhile, Grissom watched from behind the two-way glass in the observation room.

"Miles," began Brass. "Out of curiosity … what type of vehicle do you drive?"

"I drive a pick-up truck," replied Miles.

Brass could tell he was going to be difficult. He got up from his seat approaching Miles.

"Listen, I know how long you waited before. I could just as easily have an officer stick you back in that cell, and swap you out for another person who I guarantee won't waste my time like what you're doing now."

He angrily slams both hands down on the table in front of Miles causing him to jump in his seat.

"We can do this one of two ways, the easy way or the hard way, which is it going to be?"

Miles uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter in his seat before replying, "I drive a 2004 Toyota Tundra. Why? Do you know what happened to my truck?"

"Oh, drop the act!" comments Catherine

"As a matter of fact we do," replied Brass. "Tell me, how much alcohol must a man consume for him to kill his best friend? Rather, how stupid must he be to drink antifreeze?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," says Miles.

"Let me tell you a little story," replies Brass. "Once upon a time there were two guys from Texas. One of them was named Matt Whitman, and the other was named Miles Gardner. They both decide to take a trip to a magical place called Sin City. Little did one of the guys know that the other would die tragically. You and your buddy Matt have a night of drinking, enjoying yourselves with a six pack. Somehow, you end up all the way out in the desert. How do I know this … because you ran a red light at the Nevada State Route 161 intersection that leads out there."

Brass paused to see if Miles would react to what he said so far. Catherine continued.

"The surveillance tape pulled from a traffic camera proves it."

She slides the photo across the table in front of Miles so he can see for himself. It shows him driving with Matt in the passenger seat.

"All right, I'll confess," said Miles. "We hadn't been to Vegas before y'know, but we didn't want to do nothing illegal. You always hear how people end up with prostitutes, or lose millions from hitting the jack pot, or…"

Brass interrupts, "Or dead."

Miles looks away from him.

"Yeah. But I didn't kill Matt!"

"That's what they all say," says Brass.

"No honest," pleads Miles.

"We have evidence that proves otherwise," replies Catherine. "Your shoe print matches the impression on your cousin's screen door, and we lifted your fingerprints off of a bottle of antifreeze that you purchased at Larry's Liquor and General Store prior to the night of your friend's death."

"My shoe prints on the door because I was horsing around," explains Miles.

"Really?" asks Brass.

"Yeah. Matt thought it would be funny to lock me out," says Miles.

Catherine asks, "So, you kick down the screen door until he lets you back in, and then you killed him?"

She slides the photos of the shoe print comparison impressions for Miles to look at.

"No! Matt and I thought we could avoid all of that if we just did what we normally do when we were at our home town," replies Miles.

Brass inquires, "Which is … what exactly?"

"Driving in the middle of an open space like a field, but in this case a desert because everyone knows Vegas is a bunch of hot, flat, dry nothing," answers Miles.

"As a oppose to Arlen, Texas," retorts Catherine.

Brass shoots Catherine a look to knock it off.

Miles continues. "Back home Matt and I'd get a couple of six packs and some chicks and have a good time. Only being out here we couldn't tell the real women from the hookers, so we passed on the chicks, and just got a bunch of booze."

Brass says, "Let me ask you something. Why offer to split your winnings with a convenience store owner you barely know?"

Miles replies, "The guys a small businessman. We thought he could use a break."

Brass asks, "You didn't give Larry Waters $1K as incentive to kill Matt?"

Miles replies, "No. As for the antifreeze. My truck was just low on coolant."

Catherine asks, "So despite your fingerprints being on the bottle, you expect us to believe you didn't force feed antifreeze to your friend?"

"No," replies Miles. "We drove out to an open spot in the desert. It got late. It got dark, and Matt drank the last of the beer. We were both pretty drunk, and I would have stopped him, but it was too late. He chugged it, man, the whole thing. Not that there was much left."

"There was enough to kill him," replied Brass as Catherine slides the autopsy photos of his dead friend across the table.

Catherine explained, "The amount of antifreeze Matt ingested caused dizziness, headache, slurred speech, nausea and vomiting, unconsciousness."

"I thought it was 'cause of the alcohol," pleaded Miles.

Brass asked, "What about after he stopped breathing. Why run him over?"

Miles explained, "He passed out in front of the truck. I passed out in the truck. When I woke up ⏤ I didn't mean to drive over him. I hauled ass."

"By running over your friend?" asked Brass.

"I backed up. I got out of the truck, and saw him laying there. I left the keys in the ignition, and fled. I didn't want to go to jail!" argued Miles.

"Well, you are anyway," said Brass motioning for Sanchez to arrest Miles.

Catherine exited the interrogation room and joined Grissom.

She asks him, "What do you make of all of this?"

Grissom turns to look at her before replying, "Don't tread on me."

* * *

**Author's Note: I am aware that this chapter is significantly shorter than the rest. I am also "sorry" to those of you who may feel this ending is anticlimactic. "Thank you" for reading!**


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